


Stiles Has Enough

by Nopennamesleft



Series: Stiles and Derek Ficlets [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopennamesleft/pseuds/Nopennamesleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection on one shots focused on Stiles and the rest of the Pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles Has Enough

He’s had it! Seriously, he is done with all the pushing, shoving into walls, growling, and flashing of the lava red eyes. He is DONE and it stops today. Stiles pulled his jeep up to the Hale house prepared. He spent the last two nights pouring over his research and collecting the necessary tools. Exiting the jeep, head held high, Stiles entered the Hale house ready for bear….well wolf. No more letting himself be the pack chew toy. It would all stop today.

The pack meeting started out with the usual gross violation of PDA rules by Allison and Scott, a haughty glare from Lydia, and the general smirky-ness of the newest, look at me, I’m a werewolf, pack mates. Stiles took his usual seat in the recliner and was immediately removed from the spot by Derek, which completed his “welcome to the Hale house, don’t make me kill you” ritual.

Sighing, Stiles took a seat on the couch. The next millennium of time was taken up with talks of training, dealing with hunters, training, make good grades or I will eat you, and more training. Good stuff, Stiles thought with a yawn.

Maybe the yawn was excessive, Stiles’ brain gibbered at him from his (becoming usual) position, pinned against the wall. “Am I boring you with my ideas on how to keep this pack and all its members, even the annoying human ones alive?” Derek growled. Wall shoving, check. Growling, check. Lava colored eyes, check and check. But this time Stiles came prepared. No more impersonations of decorative wall hangings for him.

Using all his strength, Stiles pushed Derek away. Twisting out of his grasp and reach, he grabbed the small bottle from his jacket pocket. Aiming, he pulled the small pump action trigger. “Bad Wolf”, he growled (the dog training guide said to use a firm and commanding voice). “Down!” The liquid from the spray bottle hit Derek squarely between his eyes.

The entire room froze. Not a sound, not a breath. Wow, Stiles thought, I’ve broken the space / time continuum. I am the lord of time, master of space, oh crap! He is going to kill me.

Derek’s eyes went alpha red. Scott and Isaac jumped to their feet, throwing themselves between their alpha and their Stiles. Scott is really making some best friend points today, Stiles contemplated as the chaos erupted around him. Self preservation suddenly kicked in and Stiles was on the move. Leading with his head, literally, he spun in a compete circle, body twisting like a corkscrew.  
Left, right, killer wolf, door, right, killer wolf, door! Oh, a door, and like a clumsy, mis – aimed shot, Stiles was flying down the porch. Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him with the added force of a body being thrown against it. “Derek, you can’t kill him” and “It’s just Stiles, you know he’s an idiot. You can’t kill someone for having a terminal case of stupidity”, echoed out of the house.

Stiles stumbled to a halt in front of his jeep. He clawed the door open and leaped inside. “ Keys, keys, keys,” he huffed as he checked his pockets. Yep, no keys. He remembered dropping them on the side table as he walked in earlier. A quick glance at the house that seemed to shake from the internal werewolf struggle within, firmly dashed all ideas of returning for his keys.

Lovely day for a jog, his brain babbled at him as he made his way down the drive. His only regret was that he did not snap a picture. Derek’s face had been….awesome! It was a memory he would keep for the rest of his life.

However long that lasted.


	2. Little Red Riding Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does things he knows will flip Derek’s switch just so he can have mad, angry, snarling werewolf sex. And who can blame him? This is how Stiles apologizes for his water bottle antics from the day before.

Yesterdays plan was not one of his better ideas. In fact, in a long list of things that have gone epic-ly wrong, this had to be in a category of its own. Even after Derek caught him, pinned him to a tree, and made sure that Stiles knew how to scream out every syllable of his name in passion, he was still angry with him. Stiles hated it when Derek was angry (and yes, his brain makes the Hulk reference, complete with visual images of Derek Hulking out).

So today’s plan is “Operation Make Up with Derek”. Stiles carefully packed the cookies (lots and lots of Derek’s favorites) into the double hinged top basket he had bought the month before. He knew it was perfect the moment he had seen it at the shop but the timing had never been right for its unveiling. Pulling on his new jacket, Stiles looked over his reflection in the mirror. He red jacket was purposely bought a size too large. With the hood up and tied at his throat, the rest of the jacket billowed nicely as then turned back and forth. Stiles smiled. And audience, just so you know, this is what Scott refers to as the “oh, shit, we are never going to get out of detention” smile.

Stiles climbed into his jeep sending mental thanks to Scott for bringing it home the night before. He made his way to the Hale house, stopping at the very end of the drive. The house was just barely visible through the trees. Lifting the basket, Stiles slowly made his way toward the house. If he skipped just a little, well, who would know? And he really didn’t care if they did.

“Are you humming what I think you are humming?” growled a voice in the tree line.

Turning, Stiles sang, “Hey there little red riding hood, you sure are looking good. You’re everything that a big bad wolf could want.” Then he howled.

Derek flinched. “What was that?”

“It’s a howl, Derek. A manly, tough wolfie howl.”

Patented Derek scowl number four was his only response.

“I made you cookies to say sorry for yesterday.” Stiles stepped closer, angling his head upward to expose his throat. “Really, really, sorry alpha.” Another step had him moving into Derek’s personal space, “Forgive me?”

Stiles’ eyes closed as Derek’s teeth brushed gently across his vein. A soft nip and he pulled away. “So, what’s in the basket, little red?”

“I’m bringing a basket of goodies to my favorite alpha wolf.” Stiles held out the basket, smile in full force. Derek’s eyes widened just a fraction at the smile. He knew as well as Scott the implications of such a grin. With a deep breath and a touch of trepidation, he opened the basket. The cookies smelled heavenly.

“Stiles,” he asked with a bass rumble in his voice. “Why are all the cookies shaped like bones?”

Red cap billowing behind him as he ran, Stiles called out, “Meet you at our favorite tree.”

Derek smiled and pulled out a cookie. It was delicious and there was no need to hurry. Stiles was heading in the wrong direction anyway. He had plenty of time to catch his annoying, verbally chaotic, heartwarming mate. As apologies went, this was looking to be one of Stiles’ better ones.


	3. Derek Wolfie and Jelly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets bored. Derek is still in bed. This is what happens.

Derek Wolfie and Jelly

Derek likes to sleep on his stomach, body stretched across the bed, legs tangled in messy sheets, and arms flung wide to brush the edges of the mattress. This is his default sleeping position. These days, his pack has necessitated a few changes. Now, more often than not, Stiles sleeps underneath an out flung arm and the curve of one leg. It is easier to keep his verbally twisty and physically wiggle mate still that way. Many nights the rest of the pack curls itself around his body as well. Scott tucks himself under Derek's arm and lays his head on his shoulder. Isaac rests in the shallow dip of Derek's hips, and the rest of the pack snuggle in wherever than can find the space.

This morning he awoke to an empty bed. With a questing arm, he searches for Stiles who has never been one for early mornings. After a couple of seconds he finds the warm knee of Stiles who is kneeling by his lower back.

"What are you doing, Stiles?"

"I got hungry. We need new cereal and bacon and bread. Do you like strawberry or grape jelly better? I like grape. Then I found the little brushes that Allison bought for that project, you know the one for history that she made an A on."

Derek groaned. It was going to be one of THOSE days. "What are you doing, Stiles?" he repeated as he felt a cold substance brush across his back.

"I'm making a Derek wolfie and jelly masterpiece." Another cold stroke across his shoulders had Derek shivering in pleasure. "At first I was going to write 'property of Stiles' but there wouldn't be enough room. Then I thought about just writing 'Stiles' Wolf' but that has too many S's ess ess ssess. Kinda like a stuttering snake."

Derek let out a slow breath into his pillow. Amusement and love and a whole lot of annoyance flowed through him. "So what are you writing, Stiles?" he asked.

"I thought it best to keep it simple and stick to the truth. I just wrote 'MINE'." A shallow gasp escaped Derek's throat. His body stiffened under Stiles. Wow, Stiles thought, there's that space time continuum thing again.

"You going to lick that off of me?"

"That was the plan," Stiles replied.

"You have one minute and then…"

Stiles swallowed. "And then?"

"I am dragging you into the shower, tying you to the towel rack and finding out how many times I can make you scream my name before you come. 51 seconds left." Derek closed his eyes as a warm tongue worked its way across his back. Only thirty seconds left.


	4. Handcuffs Are a Boy's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds a pair of his dad's old handcuffs. What trouble can he get into?

Finding his Dad's old handcuffs had caused his brain to sizzle with ideas and thoughts. Lots and lots of dirty, naughty, Derek related thoughts. Of course there had to be planning, and timing, and a quick shopping trip before these ideas could finish taking shape.

Three hours, fifteen phone calls, and a baker's gross of texts later, Stiles' plan was ready for action. Heck, Stiles was ready for action. Derek would never know what hit him. Cue evil background music and maniacal laughter (and who cares if he spooked the little old lady in the parking lot).

Arriving at the Hale house he quickly set up for his plan. Everything was perfect. All that was left was for Derek to come home. Which meant waiting…and waiting….sigh.

Stiles practiced sexy, come hither poses on the bed; he fluffed the pillows, practiced Derek frowns in the mirror and then checks his phone for the time. Three minutes down, at least twenty five to go. Time had slowed to a crawl. Space time continuum shit was happening again.

Spinning the cuffs around a finger, Stiles contemplated werewolf positioning across the bed. Stomach? Back? Oh, yeah, back! Gotta love staring into those eyes. Flipping the handcuffs closed around the headboard, he tested the reach. Oh, this position would be perfect, he smiled. Derek was going to be helpless beneath him, twisting, moaning, so very werewolf hot!

"Oh, fuck a duck!" The cuffs made a rasping sound against the wooden post. Stiles eyed the keys, sitting across the room, with loathing. "Duck fucking, farting fowls, pissing poultry, Canadian goose crap….."

"Interesting seduction technique", Derek rumbled (cause damn it wolves don't PURR). "Is this all for me?" Derek took in the candles, darkened room, and painted on pants with a hungry stare. "If you are wondering, it's working." Walking across the room, he traced a finger up the cuff, across the chain and down Stiles' arm. "This is a new one for you. I never knew you wanted to be tied up."

Stiles let out a frustrated huff. "They weren't for me. They were for you." Derek threw back his head and howled. "You did not just literally howl with laughter," Stiles grumbled. "That is so unfair."

"Only you," Derek whispered as he kissed his way down Stiles' chest. "Only my amazingly sexy, clumsy, accident waiting to happen, mate could manage to chain himself to the bed. "What will I ever do?" Reaching Stiles' waistband, Derek went on to show Stiles exactly what he would and could do. Twice.

Two nights later as the pack was sleeping in their cozy pile, Scott asked sleepily, "What's with the handcuffs in the picture frame?" Derek stopped Stiles' attempt to escape the bed by tucking him deeper beneath his body and chuckling into his collar bone. "God!" groaned Scott, "never mind. Forget I asked."


	5. Stiles Does Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles shows up with a binder, Derek starts to worry.

Stiles is the unchallenged king of research. He is the go to guy for all questions on werewolves, kanimas, and even mundane matters such as Shakespeare. Even with his ADD, Stiles could hyper focus to the point of obsession given a topic that interested him.

So it should not have been a surprise to Derek when the binder made its appearance. A slick matte black, it had 'Derek's Copy' printed out and placed in the plastic holder on the front. Opening it, Derek could not help but swallow, forcefully, at the amount and range of research Stiles had amassed.

"Stiles," Derek breathed, "care to explain the binder to me?"

Stiles face broke out in a wide, happy grin as he bounded across the room and flopped next to Derek on the large couch. "Sure, it's really an easy system. There are three main categories."

"I do have eyes." Using said eyes, Derek reread the tabbed titles: Positions, Toys, and Props. With a soft huff, he wondered once again about the mental gymnastics that must take place in Stiles' head. "What are the color stickers for?

"Green is for the things I want to try ASAP; the blue is for the things I want to do TO you." Stiles paused, sending Derek a look of shear heat. "Yellow are item I would be willing to try but only with copious amounts of alcohol. Check it out and let me know what you think."

"Stiles, am I not enough? Is what we have now not making you happy?" Derek had a flash of rare insecurity. He had to keep his mate happy. He could not stand it if he lost Stiles.

"No!" came the quick reply. "You are perfect with your broody brows and sexy werewolf rumble. Your abs and ass should have sonnets written about them. I just don't want you to get bored with me. Sometimes I wonder why you want to be with me. I don't want you the think I'm predictable."

Derek pulled Stiles into a tight hug, pressing his nose against his neck. "You will never be predicable, never boring. Never! "

Stiles smiled, eyes glowing with amber highlights and his expressive face lit with love for his wolf. Pulling reluctantly away, he kissed Derek on the lips. "I'll see you after helping Scott with his midterm. Don't want him to fail." With a loving glance and a tilt of his head toward the binder, he headed out the door.

Glancing down at the binder, Derek had to wonder if it would be better for his mental health and (after looking at some of the blue tabs) physical well being if Stiles' computer access and therefore research abilities, could be limited in the future.


	6. Over His Knee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has risked his life again. How can Derek make him understand the importance of his safety.

Stiles never considered himself to be an especially brave person. He just knew what was right and did it, no matter what stood in his way or consequences he would face. This is why, when the rouge hunters started firing at his pack he stepped up to draw their fire. Shouting, "I'm a human", he flung himself in front of the nearest crossbow that was aimed directly at Boyd's chest. "You don't shoot humans" he wheezed.

"How would we know you were a human? You were running with a pack. Oopps, my bad" snarled the gene pool reject as he released a bolt that tore through Stiles' shirt sleeve leaving a trail of blood and pain. Panicked, Stiles ran, dodging between trees in the effort to keep from being a shish ka bob. Saved by his own innate clumsiness, Stiles tumbled down a ravine just as two arrows flew where his back had been mere seconds before.

Above he could hear the pack as it took advantage of his distraction to disarm and disable the hunters. After a couple of minutes, while Stiles tried to work his way out of the cold slippery mud, Scott poked his head over the edge. "You better not be dead, cause Derek will kill you."

"Yeah, Scott, that makes sense." He clambered up the steep sloop to be met at the top by a pair of crimson eyes. "Hiya, alpha." Stiles stumbled to get his feet underneath him as Derek grabbed his collar and dragged him deeper into the forest and toward the Hale house.

Once back to the safety of the pack house, the group went into a flurry of motions as they checked each other for wounds. Stiles found himself being checked by Derek, Scott, and Isaac before losing patience with the whole thing and moving to the far end of the room. Derek sat in his chair (the fluffy wolf throne as Stiles dubbed it), ruby eyes glaring in the evening light. Seeing the death stare aimed his way, Stiles threw himself against the far wall with a dramatic thud. Silence claimed the room as the pack, as a whole, turned to look at him in shock. "What? I thought I would save him the time. You all know I was going to end up here anyway."

"Out," rumbled Derek. "Everyone go home. Stay low for a couple of days until we get more info on these hunters." The pack quickly started to disperse. "Not you Stiles. You can stay right there."

"I make a good wall hanging, huh?"

Derek watched from the door as his pack pulled out. He took calming breaths and tried to get his unruly heart under control. An inch. That was the distance tonight between Stiles' survival and his death. Eyes closing against the panic of that image, Derek restrained his wolf and turned to deal with his mate.

Stiles met him halfway, rambling on about whatever mental twisty crossed his mind. Derek didn't listen. He stalked forward toward his prey and pounced. Before Stiles could even register Derek's movement, he found himself face down across his lap. Smack! "In case you haven't realized," Derek said conversationally. Smack! "You are one of the few" Smack "humans in this pack." Smack! "You don't heal quickly and you" smack "can't survive" smack "with an arrow" smack "in your chest."

Stiles was twisting in his lap. Derek couldn't think, couldn't see past the image of Stiles dead, arrow in his chest, and blood pooling on the forest floor. "I can't lose you", he whispered. And then louder, "I can't lose you", punctuated by another round of spankings to Stiles' rear.

Emotionally drained, Derek let Stiles slip out of his grasp and get to his feet. He looked up expecting to see anger, disgust, or fear. Instead Stiles' eyes were a trace of earthen brown around a pupil dilated to its full extent. Rage? "I'm sorry," Derek started. "I didn't…." but was cut off when Stiles' tongue invaded his mouth, tasting, twisting with his own. Stiles nipped Derek's lower lip and deepened the kiss, lips sealed, head tilted for best access to his hot, welcoming mouth.

Okay, not rage.

Stiles forced Derek backwards on the couch, hand ripping the torn fabric of his shirt in desperation to get to the warm skin beneath. Straddling Derek's hips, he worked his way down the broad expanse of skin, leaving a trail of warm kisses in his wake. Reaching Derek's jeans he paused, glancing upward briefly. Derek was sprawled across the couch, eyes closed, and his head thrown back.

The tilt of his head against the couch exposed the long, clean line of his neck. The strong column was bared for all to see. An unacknowledged feeling bubbled its way upward, filling Stiles' chest, causing his breath to catch: Derek was HIS! His mate, his lover, just plain HIS! Stiles lurched forward, teeth biting and mouth sucking at Derek. Bruises healing as soon as they were made created undulating patterns on Derek's neck. With a firm bite below Derek's chin, Stiles began to work his way back down Derek's chest.

Reaching his navel, Stiles left his pattern of bites to quickly work open the button. A twist of his fingers and a slight tug helped him relieve Derek of his pants. A work of art. Smooth, lightly tanned skin against a dark couch, he was a masterpiece that rivaled the David. Stiles let out a slow warm breath against Derek's skin. Licking his lips, he looked up to see Derek's blue eyes, wide with lust, staring back.

With a sultry smile Stiles dipped his head and took Derek completely into his mouth. Derek's cries of pleasure and panting of his name created the perfect rhythm for Stiles. Cheeks hollowed, tongue working, his brown head bobbing, Stiles worked Derek until he begged for mercy.

"Stiles, can't, won't, oh god, wait!" came the incoherent ramble. With a mental smile and a soft hum, Stiles doubled his effort and seconds later had his mouth and hands full of climaxing, quivering werewolf.

Derek lay draped across the couch, utterly spent. Slowly Stiles worked his way back up Derek's chest, following the now healed trail of hickies. Pressing his lips softly against Derek's he whispered, "Sorry I scared you. I don't mean to make you worry. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Not," Derek replied, brain scrambling to make non-Frankenstein syllable sentences. "Mad." Great. What would be next? Fire bad?

Stiles brushed kisses across his eyelids and nose, across his stubble covered cheeks to the sensitive skin behind his ear, where he placed a gentle bite. "I didn't think."

Derek lifted his head as his brain slowly came back on line. "I just can't lose another person that I love." He tried to explain but was cut off by another desperate, passionate, catch your soul on fire kiss from his mate. Blinking and dazed as the kiss ended he asked, "What did I do to earn that? I'll do it again."

"You said 'person that I love'. Meaning that you love me. You've never said it before. Not that you really said it now. You just implied. But you have never even implied it before. Just, you know, the mate thing."

A warm laugh shook Derek's chest, the vibrations traveling up Stiles' leg and reminding him sharply that he was still in need of some relief. "But you know I love you."

"You've never said it."

Derek sat up, holding Stiles' face with both hands and leaning closer until their foreheads touched. "I love you. You have my heart, my soul, and most of my sanity."

"Oh," Stiles breathed, and was completely speechless.

"So about the spanking." Derek smiled, "I guess I should start making it up to you."

Stiles' face exploded in the biggest grin. "Sure. I guess you could start by spanking me again upstairs, in our bed. " Stiles was heading for the stairs before he finished speaking. Derek followed closely behind watching his ass as it climbed the stairs. No one had to ask him twice to put his hands on that.

Later, tangled in sheets, Stiles tucked beneath him for safety (and a chance of a wiggle free night) Derek counted his blessings and promised himself that he would never take a moment for granted. He pressed a chaste kiss on the top of Stiles' head. He knew better than most that love could be lost in a flash. This was a love he would cling to with all his strength. Peace claimed him and he drifted off to sleep.


	7. Stiles Explains His Sexuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Totally random and I feel like I should be begging forgiveness. So...sorry :)

"Wow, she is hot! She's the new girl of my dreams. Sorry Lydia, you have been usurped."

"Stiles, you can't be serious. Girl of your dreams? You're gay." Jackson leaned back on the couch, one leg dangling over the armrest. His 'I'm the greatest ass hole ever' smirk firmly in place.

"What?" Stiles mouth agape and eyes wide, stared in shock at Jackson. "I'm not gay! I so like girls. I love girls. I'm not gay, dude."

The pack sat in silence. Their eyes darting between Stiles and Derek. Scott was the first to break the awkwardness.

"Uh, Stiles? You are kinda sleeping with Derek. And I am pretty sure he is not a girl." Derek, the non-girl of note, raised an eyebrow as if to punctuate Scott's statement.

"Guys, that doesn't made me gay. I'm just Derek-sexual."


	8. Stiles Gets Jacked

Lifting his bloody hand from his forehead, Stiles tried to peer through the smoke billowing out his hood. _Oh, my poor baby, my poor head._ Fumbling with the handle and then collapsing to the pavement, he surveyed the damage. _Where had that truck come from?_ Steel bands masquerading as arms grabbed him from behind. Stiles was lifted off his feet and carried backwards as he struggled feebly. "Well now", a cold voice. A known voice. The principal from hell's voice. "If it isn't our human pack member. You're going to tell us where he is Stiles."

Stiles tried to focus on the aging hunter. Seeing old fart twins could not be a good thing. "I have no idea what you", he pointed at one then the other wavering form, "are talking about". He kicked back briefly, straining against the hold but succeeded only in making his head hurt worse.

"We will have to see about that". Grandpa argent turned to his lurking shadows and discussed evil plans in a hushed, villain-y manner. Vision fading in and out, Stiles concentrated mostly on not throwing up.

_What the hell_. They ran him off the road and were now apparently kidnapping him, why was he worried about their shoes? "Thar she blows", he mumbled gleefully, spewing his awesome pizza dinner. His aim was spot on, splattering two of the hunter goons in foul spelling puke. "That will teach you to crash my baby."

With a look of disgust, steel arm goon hoisted Stiles into the back of the largest of the black trucks. Sandwiched between two vomit speckled hunters, Stiles felt his head spin as the truck flew down the road into the night.

"Isn't this against the code? I'm human. You are the most code break-ee-est code followers I've ever met. If fact you shouldn't even call it a code. Cause its totally a non code type code you guys have going on here."

Stiles' head slammed into the back of the seat. "Damn, only Derek gets to do that." His voice whined with dizziness but his shock was quickly clearing as fear started to bubble inside. Fear plus a head injury plus quickly growing car sickness equals...

"Dammit, pull over. The little shit is going to throw up again." Tires screeched, the sudden stop slamming his head into the front seat again.

_How many concussions does it take to get to the center of a Stillinski roll pop? One, two, three!_ Head hanging between his arms, stomach heaving, an amazing large pool of vomit forming below him had him wondering just how much he ate. Really, this seemed excessive.

At the edge of his vision he saw it. Not Excalibur but then he was no Arthur. Curling his fingers around it he waited for a goon to come in range. "Get up!" Stiles allowed himself to hang limply in the ungentle grasp until the last possible second. Every ounce of energy, all his desperation, went into his trust. The deadwood branch aimed for his kidnapper's eye.

The branch lodged itself into the goons left nostril and wedged it's way upward, tearing flesh and ripping into the corner of the large mans eye. A guttural cry earned Stiles his freedom and he quickly dashed into the forest. Twisting and dodging, Stiles ran deeper into the woods until he no longer heard the sounds of hunter pursuit.

He slid down to the ground, pounding head resting against a pine and waited for the sky to stop spinning. No jeep, no phone, no idea where he was, this was becoming his worst night ever. And considering in the past year he had found a dead girl, his best friend had turned werewolf, and he was almost lizard chow on a regular basis, that was saying a lot.

Head wounds make time pass funny. The moon shimmered and skipped across the sky, a strange stop action camera motion. It had completely set by the time Stiles found that his legs would still work though they were wobbly and untrustworthy.

Staying away from the main road Stiles headed back toward town. Hearing sirens as he neared the town limits, he changed course until he reached the river. Looking upward he could see the bridge, the same from his abduction the night before. Little people ants scurried back and forth. The railing was twisted and broken, his baby blue jeep lying battered and torn in the river below.

Stiles scrambled up the embankment walking slowly up behind the multitude of cars. A voice in his head told him to call out, make a sound, but his mouth couldn't form the words. Derek would be shocked. _Here I am, non verbal, mouth not working...whoa...look at the shiny lights._ "Stiles! Oh, god! It's stiles!" A red eyed, muscular teen ran toward him. Fancy clothes, fancy haircut, jaw chiseled from marble, it looked a lot like Jackson. And then the Jackson impersonator was hugging him.

"Did the pod people get you?" Stiles tried to focus on Jackson but it's hard to make eye contact while in a choke hold. "What happened?"

"God, Stiles. Your jeep is at the bottom of the river. We thought you were dead."

Jackson's cries had alerted the outer fringe of onlookers and quickly fanned inward. In a wave they turned. Stiles struggled to come up with an excuse. This many people looking at him at one time was never a good sign. He was grounded for life.

Then his dad broke loose from the crowd, eyes darkened with grief, hope not yet realized. A pause, shock, relief, a heart mended by the sight. Stiles was pulled into his embrace, one arm locked around his shoulders and back, the other encircling his waist. He hugged back feeling the slow spread of tears on his shoulder and knew that his own were soaking his dad's as well.

"Stiles!" Voice deep, the alpha growl barely held in check, Derek stood just behind the sheriff. With a final squeeze, Stiles was released from his father's grasp only to be immediately pulled into Derek's. A warm hand cupped the back of his neck as Derek crushed his lips in a breath stealing kiss.

"I thought you were dead." Derek pressed his nose to the crook of Stiles' neck, pressing his body against the smaller teens. His warm breath took in Stiles' scent, his mate, not dead.

Woozy, Stiles looked between his dad and his boyfriend slash life mate _slash too old for me to be dating and dad doesn't know I'm gay but I'm not really gay it's just Derek and I love him oh god don't throw him in jail._ "Stiles breathe." Stiles found himself looking up into his father's panicked eyes. Derek was a solid mass supporting his weight. "I don't care if your gay and I'm not throwing Derek in jail. I'm just... Damnit son, there was all the blood and..." Another hug. _When did his dad start reading minds?_

"You're talking out loud," Derek whispered.

"So," Stiles blinked between the two most important people in his life. "Does this mean we can start having family dinners? I bet there's a game on Sunday."


	9. Stiles Takes a Shot

Derek was sleeping on his back spread across the empty bed when he heard his mate return home. The pack, unruly and young, had gone out to celebrate Isaac's twenty- first birthday. A crowd of people reeking of sweat and alcohol was an event Derek had chosen to pass upon. After ruffling Isaac's hair and kissing his mate, he had sent them on their way. Leaving him alone, peaceful, in a quiet house.

Hearing Stiles tip toeing into the bedroom, he had to wonder what his hyper mate was up to this time. He could tell by the clumsy attempt at stealth that Stiles was trying to sneak up on him. Not that he wouldn't play along. His lips curved briefly hidden from human eyes by the darkness.

The bed dipped as Stiles climbed in next to Derek's side. Derek was unclothed except for a pair of black boxers. The sheets were a tangle at his feet, which were the only part of Derek that ever really got cold. The mattress shifted back and forth as Stiles got prepared.

A grainy trail of matter was drizzled below his navel just above his waistband. His skin twitched a little at the slight tickle but he held still. A quiet rasp released the smell of tequila into the room and a cool liquid was poured into his navel.

Then there was Stiles' warm tongue licking across his lower abs and then the sweet suction of his mouth at his belly. Eyes open, body hard, and now truly awake he stared at his mate. Love of his life, chaos in motion, sanity draining mate.

"What are you doing?"

"Tequila shots" Stiles sprinkled another line of salt across Derek's stomach and a splash of liquor.

"Aren't you supposed to have a lemon after the shot?"

Stiles held out the slices. Choosing one he slipped it into Derek's mouth. "Bite down when I lick."

And again there was the feel of Stiles' warm tongue, the suction of his mouth against Derek's skin, then his lips against his own. Stiles' tongue tasted of tequila and mingled with the citrus in Derek's mouth. Tongues and tastes swirled until Derek was breathless.

A hooked leg, a twist of his hips, had Stiles trapped below him on the bed. "My turn."

 


	10. Loving Stiles

Loving Stiles is easy. He's open, excepting, and enthusiastic about everything. Stiles is the one that the pack is drawn to when in trouble or pain. His is the lap Allison cried into on the anniversary of her mother's death, filled with the anger of her betrayal and the pain of her loss. Stiles is the only one to hear Jackson whispered confession that he feels that one slip and he will let his parents down causing them to regret their choice in his adoption.

But it's with the children and young creatures that Stiles' gift is most apparent. Like flowers to the sun, babies and toddlers follow Stiles where ever he goes. They hold chubby little arms up to him to lift, cling to his legs, and gurgle and laugh from shopping carts as his passes them in the aisles.

There's never been a puppy that did not greet Stiles like an unmet best friend. Kittens bumble in furry knots at his feet. Once Derek saw a days old fawn, eyes bright with curiosity, reaching its nose to touch Stiles' outstretched fingers. Maybe there is something about innocence that is attracted to an open, loving heart.

Derek wonders how they had missed Stiles' importance for so long. Maybe teenagers are so caught up in the fight for popularity, their constant jockeying for position in their high school hierarchy that they were blind to all he had to offer. But time had opened their eyes.

Stile exudes joy and over the years has made the Hale house warm and inviting to all. No longer the burned husk, it has become a vibrant, welcoming place. A home to their growing pack.

First there is Scott's raven haired daughter who has her mother's strength and courage. Later Lydia's twins join the group, strawberry blond curls and Jackson's cheekbones. Stiles is the Pied Piper of the three, leading them through the wooded backyard, spinning tales of the horrid Grumble who takes over silly alphas and can only be defeated by tickles and kisses. Then Derek finds himself tackled by giggling cubs and covered with sticky kisses.

Sometimes in the darkness of the night, Derek's fears bubble to the surface. He had chosen Stiles as mate, stalked him like prey, and claimed him. Stiles, young and impressionable, had quickly submitted to the alphas romantic attention. In the dark, Derek wonders if Stiles would be better off with someone soft and curvy instead of him. That somehow because of him the world is missing a new brown eyed boy or girl, full of energy and love.

And because Stiles can be trusted with the deepest of hurts, the darkest of fears, he reveals his worries in the shadows of their room. Stiles gazes at him and kisses away all his doubts.


	11. When Derek Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't love at first sight.

It wasn't love at first sight, more like earth shattering annoyance with a side of "I'm going to kill him and no one will find the body." The boy could talk, long breathless rambles that jumped from topic to topic, following no logical trail, random babbling sound that never seemed to end.

How could he still be living because he certainly never took a breath? Even pinned to the wall, Derek's teeth almost breaking the skin of his neck, Stiles would barely pause. His voice would raise an octave and take on a shuttering cant that Derek found himself enjoying, but the words would continue to flow. He was the damn Niagara Falls of words.

It wasn't until after the whole kanima incident, with Jackson finally a wolf and not a mindless killer lizard that Derek was able to catch his wind and actually think about Stiles. Brave, quick on his feet, loyal, and cute. Oh yeah, and annoying but that was starting to take backseat to his cuteness.

The way his eyes sparkled when he was telling about his newest research, his gently bitten lower lip when he was nervous, and the way he was starting to smell when ever Derek was near. Because werewolves, they pick up on important scents such as fear, anger, and lust. There was still the slightest whiff of fear with Stiles but more and more lust was the predominate scent flowing from him.

And the stronger the scent the more the mahogany eyed boy rambled, words gushing from his supple lips, drawing Derek's eye to their moist bow. The rapid dance of his heart drawing him ever closer.

The crescent moon was low in the sky the night Derek made his move. Training over the pack dispersed, disappearing into the woods and darkness. For the entire night Stiles had made a point of not calling Derek by his name. He had a slew of names: Sour wolf, Grumpy Mc Grouchy, Broody Brows, and Alph-poo. The fact he was still alive and not gutted like a fish was testament to Derek's self control and growing affection. Mostly his self control.

Alone Stiles walked back to his jeep, footsteps light with his happiness, teeth catching the moonlight as he grinned, the soft murmur of his not so internal monologue filling the air.

Derek stepped out of the woods directly in front of him, his soundless arrival startling the young man. "Jesh, are you starting a magic show? Cause really, you have enough super cool powers in you wolfie arsenal. I guess you could be the Amazing Alph – Poo but I would hate to see you pull a rabbit out of your hat. It would probably end up being your lunch, all munchie, chrunchie."

His mouth was moving full speed and his scent, sharp and tangy wafting into the night air, lust with just a hint of fear, better than the sweetest perfume. Heartbeat pounding out a rhythm that forced Derek closer, stepping into the smaller man's personal space and causing him to look up, eyes bright and clear.

"You talk too much."

"Funny, lots of people tell me that. I do try to keep quiet but it never seems to stick. I mean, I'm sure I can be quiet if you want me to, you don't have to tear out my throat or my tongue. Course if I had to pick I'd go with my tongue because I can live with that, I couldn't lick an ice cream cone anymore but that's why God made spoons. Dear Lord, don't kill me, I'm shutting up!"

Derek pinned Stiles against the nearest tree nose resting in the crook of his neck, inhaling the tempting smell, lips hovering over the quick fire pulse. "Say my name." He whispered, lips painting Stiles' skin with his words.

"Derek?" A timid question, the smell of fear intensifying.

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles' pulse right below his ear. The softest of kisses, the slightest touch of his tongue. "Again."

"Derek!" A hushed moan, his chin thrusting upward exposing a pale line of throat, lifting up on his toes and pressing his body against the hard, warm line of Derek's body, he whispered again, "Derek!"

Derek released Stiles' shoulders, running his hands upward to cradle his head. Thumb stroking a cheekbone with one hand while the other gently scratched the nape of Stiles' neck nails sending shivers down his spine. Staring briefly into those mahogany brown eyes, he tilted his head slowly back and forth, lips brushing softly against Stiles' each time.

Ahhh, there was that heavenly scent, fear long forgotten, it's spiciness filling his senses, and his world narrowed until it was just Stiles. Nibbling at Stiles' lips, Derek worked his way into a deeper kiss, tongue sliding past lips to explore, an explosive give and take that left both panting and trembling with emotion.

"What are you doing? You don't even like me." Stiles pulled his scattered wits around him, sharp teeth pinching the inner section of his lower lip causing it to jut just the slightest bit out. A tempting treat for a dark haired wolf.

"I like you just fine." Derek growled taking possession of the lower lip, kissing Stiles until he was mentally scrambled, eyes wide and mouth red and swollen from his assault. "If you tell me, I'll stop. But I don't want you too. Don't tell me to stop."

"Don't stop", Stiles moaned pulling himself flush with Derek, chest pressed to chest. "I don't want you to stop." His hands were gripped around Derek's shirt, pulling it upward when Scott voice rang through the night.

"Stiles! Where are you? I need you to take me to get my car? I need to go pick up my mom."

And, yes, there are people out there that are more annoying then Stiles. "I hate Scott." Derek pulled away after leaving one more whisper soft kiss on Stiles' lips.

"Me too at this moment."Catching Derek's arm before he could disappear, he added, "Can we finish this sometimes? My dad works late tomorrow. "

An appropriately wolf like grin spilt Derek's face."Tomorrow night, your house, I'll be there." Leaning in Derek gently nipped Stiles' neck before vanishing into the trees, just as Scott appeared.

"Thank goodness I caught you. I almost forgot." Scott was a great best friend but his wolf sharp senses needed a lot of work because he didn't notice the rapid breath or passion kissed lips.

Stiles climb into the jeep, a smile plastered to his face, eagerly waiting the next evening.


	12. Of Pancakes and Waffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek talk over breakfast. Okay, Stiles talks and Derek is too hungry to just leave.

Stiles finished placing the last of the breakfast platters on the table and slid into his seat next to Derek. Mounds of fluffy pancakes, waffles, and crunchy bacon filled the table giving the impression that there would be more than just the two of them for breakfast.

Derek smiled across the table as he took a stack of pancakes onto his plate, enjoying the warm flush that spread across the human's cheeks and tipped his ears a rosy red. Stiles gathered an equal amount of waffles onto his own plate and split the bacon between them.

Sipping his coffee, Derek gazed at his lover who was drowning his waffles under a flood of maple syrup. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't really ADD but just a constant sugar high that kept Stiles in his unending state of motion.

"I've decided there are two types of people. Pancake people and waffle people. You obviously are a pancake person," Stiles gestured with a waffle laden fork toward the pile of pancakes. "I am a waffle person."

Derek paused with a forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth. There was three ways he could handle an early morning Stiles rant:

1\. He could make an encouraging sound and listen to what could be up to an hour monologue, feeding his love/hate relationship with Stiles' mouth

2\. Growl angrily and listen to Stiles constantly NOT talk about what he wanted to talk about, which could end up taking the rest of the morning, feeding into his love/hate relationship with Stiles' mouth OR

3\. He could use his strategic attack fuck and most likely shut Stiles up for the rest of the morning in a post sex haze _. Hummmmm...we haven't used THAT counter yet._

But with all things one fact holds true; he who hesitates is lost. He waited too long and Stiles continued without prompting. "Pancake people just let the people in their life slide off of them like syrup. Maybe they soak up a little but most of it just ends up on the plate and the poor pancake is left all dry and alone. Waffle people have the little square holes that hold onto the syrup people tightly so that they can soak up all their sugary goodness."

Derek couldn't help but snort his pancake. "So you hold onto people with you little square holes?"

Stile shook his fork at him, sending sticky raindrops across the table. "Get your mind out of the mud. Listen to the gist of what I am saying." Stiles ate another bite of waffle and talked around it. "You need to waffle up a little. One cannot be a pancake unto himself."

Derek placed another pancake on his plate. "So this is me?" he motioned to his plated breakfast and Stiles nodded. Picking up his knife, Derek shoved the handle end into his pancake creating a rectangular hole. Then he poured syrup directly into it, filling it completely until it ran down the sides. "I have exactly enough room for you, so that I can soak up all your sugary goodness."

And the counter found that it had a new use.


	13. Just Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, what the title says.

He wasn't crying, you can't cry in the rain - at least nobody can prove it. The rain washes away all traces, no weakness left behind, just the rain. The cold rain. A little part of Stiles' brain was nagging on about how his lack of shivering was a bad thing but he no longer cared. Just let the rain wash it all away.

The fight with Scott had been epic, Death Star proportions and Stiles knew he was not on the winning side. He was the planet turned asteroid belt. Boom! Then the icing on the 'Lets screw Stiles up' cake was his fight with his Dad. Yes, Stiles had been lying, sneaking around, hiding things but it was all for the good of wolf kind. He just couldn't tell his Dad that.

This led to a very wet and bedraggled Stiles sitting on the edge of the Hale property. Why here? The hell if Stiles knew. This is where his baby blue jeep had taken him. Maybe she knew something he didn't. Yep, he must have a fucking psychic jeep. _I bet she sees dead people._

"What are you doing here?" Stiles didn't even look up just pulled himself into a tighter ball. Maybe werewolves were like bears; if they thought you were already dead they would leave you alone. "Stiles!" Iron bands wrapped around Stiles' upper arms as Derek jerked him to his feet.

Stiles let his head drop back, throat exposed in submission an offering of pale flesh to the angry God of Brooding. He expected shaking or teeth at his neck or even to be slammed into a tree. What he got was to be gathered into the warm embrace of a grumbly wolf and carried back to the Hale House.

Derek's stride didn't falter as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. Stiles allowed his eyes to flutter open as he was placed on his feet. In a bathroom. Who'd have thought that the emotionally burned out husk of a wolf would have running water in his burned out husk of a home.

A dark blue towel covered Stiles head from behind as Derek began to dry the cold rain from his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. "It's almost freezing out there and you don't even have a jacket on. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Suicide by werewolf. It would be a first." Stiles' voice was flat, lifeless, and despondent. Derek had never heard the hyper teen sound so empty.

Finishing with Stiles hair, Derek pulled his drenched shirt off. Stiles offered no resistance or help, just stood still under Derek's care. The blue towel ran lightly over his chest in back, Derek's fingers brushing his cold skin leaving trails of warmth behind them. It was as if Derek was finger painting with pure heat, sending tremors down Stiles' spine, curling his toes, and shortening his breath.

Derek cupped Stiles' head and brought it forward to rest on his chest, his thumb gently stroking the small dip at Stiles' neck where this spine met his skull. Stiles closed his eyes and let himself lean limply against the alpha, trusting him to keep him upright, to keep him standing, and maybe even keep him safe.

"Do you really think I would hurt you? Stiles, after all we have been through, do you think I could ever cause you harm?"

Stiles could only shake his head, hair rubbing against Derek's shirt. "Sorry, don't be mad. I can't take it if anyone else is mad at me today."

"Not mad." Derek's voice rumbled causing shivers to run through Stiles chest and downward. "Shoes, Stiles, get them off." Obeying Stiles toed off his shoes as Derek unbuttoned his pants and guided them down his legs. He retraced his path upward with the towel until he was face to face with Stiles.

Stiles stood in front of the hottest man he had ever known in his tight-ee white-ees his response to Derek's attention obvious. "Now what?" Stiles wanted to do more than ask a stupid question, he wanted to touch, to taste, to see Derek naked but he remained rooted in place.

"I get you into bed and warm you up." Derek backed Stiles up across the floor until he was sitting on a large bed. Derek went and pulled the covers down and urged Stiles further up the bed. "This is wet too." Tucking his thumbs under the waist band of Stiles ' underwear, he glanced briefly up to gauge Stiles' mood.

He was met with eyes blown wide with lust, pupils dilated with want and need. Stiles lifted his hips, helping Derek ease off the wet garment and slid under the covers. "So, you're going to get me warm?"

Derek's clothes fell to a pile at his feet in record time and he joined the shivering teen in the bed, arms wrapping around his waist pulling him closer against his warmth. Stiles could not help the shivers that racked his body as Derek's warmth hit him. He was freezing.

Wiggling, Stiles worked his way under Derek's body, finding the position that offered the most warmth. "God, Stiles! Be still or I won't be responsible for my actions." Derek's breath tickled against Stiles' neck. Pressed against Derek's shoulder, Stiles' mouth widened into a huge grin as he purposely wiggled his body suggestively under Derek, brushing his need alongside Derek's thigh.

"They say with hypothermia the victim goes into a dream sleep at the end. It's supposed to be quite peaceful. I really like this dream. This is the best dream ever." Derek lifted up on his elbows to get a better look at Stiles. Shaking his head, he let out a sad sigh.

Derek shifted to the side causing Stiles to moan at his loss. "I like you as my wolfie blanket. You were supposed to make me warm." Brown eyes turned pleadingly toward the alpha. "Derek, make me warm."

Warm hands roamed up and down Stiles' body leaving trails of warmth, heat, and causing shock waves of pleasure to arch his back, hands twisting the sheets as he tried to pull Derek closer.

When Derek's fingers stroked Stiles' length, the boy made the most demandingly wonton noises, bucking against Derek. "Do that again! Grabbing Derek's hand, Stiles guided him, pushing his palm down his member and curling his fingers around it. "Please!"

Leaning on one elbow, Derek watched the emotions filter across Stiles' expressive face as his grip tightened and loosened below. Stiles came, back bowed with only heels and shoulders touching the mattress, his voice crying out Derek's name.

Stiles was drifting into sleep, his last vision one of Derek leaning over him to press a gentle kiss on his lips. "You know I'm real, right Stiles?"

"Nope, alpha wolves don't smile," and with a goofy grin still on his face he fell asleep.

(Just Smut...Just Smut...)

Damn, chipper happy sunlight. Had to come streaming through the window dragging Stiles out of his warm cocoon of sleep and yummy Derek flavored dreams. Pulling the cover over his head he determined to ignore the sun, 'awake' could go fuck itself.

Stiles shimmied deeper into the covers and the warm embrace behind him _. Holy Fuck! That is not my arm. And THAT is not my morning hard on pressed up against my ass._ Rolling slowly over, Stiles came face to face with a sleeping alpha.

_Not a dream not a dream! I'm in bed with Derek, makes Adonis look like a dog, Hale. How could this be happening to me? Was he drunk? Should I try to sneak out before he wakes up? God, will he eat my face if I touch his abs. It would be worth it if I could lick them. I am so dead! Giggle, but in bed. Rhyming!_ "Stiles, stop thinking so loud. I'm trying to sleep." Without opening his eyes, Derek pulled Stiles closer, rolling on his back and tucking Stiles against his shoulder.

"Your real." Stiles whispered in awe, fingers tracing spirals on Derek's chest. "You're not some dream I had, not just a fantasy."

Amused green eyes turned his way. "I'm your fantasy?"

"Well, duh, I think you are everyone's fantasy. Do you own a mirror? Seriously, have you seen your abs? And let's not even mention your ass." Stiles' list of yummy Derek bits was interrupted a passionate kiss.

Rolling Stiles back against the bed Derek covered him with his body, kissing and nipping gently on his neck leaving his own version of a bread crumb trail as he traveled down Stiles' body. "Now that I'm real, how far do you want this to go?"

"Oh fuck!" Stiles moaned as Derek found a particularly sensitive spot.

"That sounds perfect" Derek grinned down at the squirming human. "Can I?"

"Yes, oh god, yes"

Derek leaned across the bed and pulled a bottle of lotion from the side table drawer. Seeing Stiles' look, he teased, "A werewolf has needs too."

"Maybe I'm jealous."

"Of my hand? It doesn't stand a chance against you."

Stiles was stunned. Who was this happy wolf and what had he done with his alpha. Derek leaned forward, lips feather light against Stiles' mouth, before slowly working his way down the human's body leaving kisses in his wake.

Stiles arched into Derek, his skin desperate for the Alpha's touch, his hands rubbing circles across the tattoo on his back and carding through his thick black hair. Stiles let his legs fall open, welcoming Derek's presence, offering himself.

Wet and glorious warmth surrounded him causing his hips to buck, fingers digging into strong shoulders. "Derek!" for possibly the first time in Stiles' life words left him, his thoughts fluttered like leaves in a storm, his only anchor the dark haired man between his thighs.

Green eyes stared up at him as Derek slid the fist lube cool finger into Stiles. It circled his puckered hole, teasing, before gently pushing in. Stiles couldn't take his eyes off Derek, their stares locked and filled with lust. And love, Stiles admitted to himself, head falling back, eyes closing. He loved Derek Hale.

Derek lifted Stiles' hips slightly, sliding in a second finger as he ran his tongue over his lover's body. Stiles threw his head back, lifting himself up to Derek. "Hurry, I need..." his sentence ended with a soundless moan as Derek's fingers brushed the bundle of sensitive nerves.

"Tell me what you need, Stiles. What do you want"

Stiles' body went rigid and he pushed himself up cupping Derek's neck and pulling him close. "You, all I've ever wanted is you." He was taking a chance, laying it all out for Derek to see. If this was his opportunity for happiness with the alpha, then he was jumping for it.

Derek's kiss forced him back down to the bed, tongue delving deeply into Stiles' warm mouth, the spicy taste of alpha filling his senses. He kissed his way down Stiles' chin, nibbled his collarbone and down the flat plains of his stomach before returning to his original position between Stiles' legs.

"Derek, I want more. I want you." Stiles felt on fire, nerve endings ablaze with need, pulse singing with want, heart seemingly pounding Derek's name.

Derek's breath tickled the skin of Stiles' inner thigh as he said, "Tell me what you want, I need to hear you say it."

"Make love to me." As soon as the words left his mouth, Stiles wished he could pull them back. They were not the words he should have used. Too needy, too demanding, too intimate to be voiced for what was most likely for Derek some sort of pity fuck.

The dark haired wolf stilled, cheek still pressed to Stiles' thigh. Slowly he pulled himself upward, nose lightly brushing the pale skin as he inhaled the young human's scent along the way. Stiles could feel Derek's length pressed against his own and couldn't hold back the quick thrust of his hips, craving the friction of the other man.

"I need you to be sure." Derek caught Stiles gaze with his own, his eyes flickering between his normal green and alpha red. "Because if I do that, if we do that, then you will be mine. And Stiles I won't let you go and I don't share."

Seeing only the confusion that his statement created in the young man's eyes, Derek pulled away, leaving one quick kiss in his wake. Sitting on the edge of the bed he gave Stiles' leg a pat as he stood.

"Derek? Don't you know? I've been yours since that first night we met in the forest." Stiles reached out, linking his fingers through Derek's and pulled him back into the bed. Kissing franticly he covered ever inch of Derek he could reach with his mouth, running his hands down shoulder, back, and finally clutching the firm mounds of Derek's ass and rocking his hips against him.

So focused on Derek, he didn't even hear the click of the lotion cap but arched as his body was once more breached by a cool coated finger, widening his opening and sending a rush of pleasure up his spine.

Warmth filled and stretched him, a burn that was just shy of pain had Stiles panting and clinging to Derek's shoulders. Teeth raked the curve of Stiles' neck, whispering "Always mine," as he thrust all the way into his lover.

Both men paused, waiting for Stiles to adjust. A needy pump from Stiles hips made Derek smile. "Come on Alpha! Do something. Move!"

Strong fingers dug into Stiles sides as Derek lifted his hips, thrusting wildly, pounding into his lover, cries of "more, harder, God Derek don't stop, right there, faster," driving him wild. Hearing the subtle change in Stiles' heart rate, Derek stroked Stiles a few more times, sending him over the edge, eyes glazed in passion as the orgasm shook his body. Derek joined him moments later, collapsing onto his chest.

It was awhile before either caught their breath. "So, um, do you want me to leave? Pretend this never happened?" Stiles' voice was uncertain. Derek growled in response and pulled him closer, tucking him under his shoulder and throwing a leg over his knees.

"Can I call you my boyfriend? Man friend? Sex God?"

"Mate works just fine. Now be quiet or I'll rip your throat out."

Stiles couldn't help the rolling laughter that erupted from him. "With your teeth? Sorry, you're not scary anymore."

Derek settled with silencing him with a long, deep kiss instead.


	14. Rorschach

Since finding himself in the middle of the werewolf infested, teenage love story angst, crazed zombie uncle, ex-lizard turned wolf world that was Beacon Hills, Stiles has had good days, crappy days, scare the piss out of him days and then days like today. Today the shit had hit the fan so hard that it left Rorschach prints on the walls and ceiling. Yep! Stiles can read the writing on the wall; 'You are SO screwed'.

Hunter fist connected with Stiles stomach just below the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. "Why do you protect that animal? Tell me! Who is the kanima? Who controls him?"

Sucking in shorts gasps of air around the spasms in his chest and stomach, Stiles ground out, "There's no kanima. I'll use little words. Big lizard go bye bye."

The hunter was not amused. The next few minutes of Stiles' life was filled with a rain of blows, punches to face and body until he could no longer discern one area of pain from another. His whole body was just one huge, fiery blaze of agony. Stiles could no longer breathe through his broken nose, panting for air with bloody lips. His eyes could no longer clearly make out the hunter who was now a blurry menace when viewed with swollen, blacken eyes.

"Don't be stupid. He is nothing but a monster. Why do you care what I do to him? Is it really worth your life?"

Stiles knew he wasn't brave but he also knew that family and friends were worth everything. Without them life had no meaning. No he wasn't brave. He was too much of a coward to ever go through life knowing that he was the cause of losing someone he cared about. Even Jackson. Even Jackson was worth dying for above losing.

"He's my family, my pack. Family is worth anything." Stiles would have closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch the next punch that was heading toward his face, the one that would surely end his pain forever, but his eyes had finally swollen completely shut taking away the need.

Roars filled Stiles ears, thick within the small space of the room. Deep and angry, they surrounded him bringing comfort instead of fear. Giggling with the shock that was taking over his senses, Stiles tilted his head in the direction of the last blow. "I must have misread the shit. You are the one that is screwed."

A new set of screams filled the room, no longer Stiles' high pitched keening but the deeper cries of a brutal hunter meeting his bloody end. Stiles wished toward the last that someone would untie him so that he could cover his ears. The wet tearing sounds were going to haunt him for many nights to come. He was almost sorry for the nameless brute. Almost but not really.

And it was over; a couple of seconds of silence and then:

"Oh, God! Stiles!"

"Easy, easy, I've got you."

"That bastard! I wish we could bring him back and kill him again."

"I called his dad. He'll meet us at the hospital."

And most heartbreaking, quietly whispered with a pain filled voice, "Not worth dying for. I'm not worth you dying for. Why Stiles? Why?"

Blackness took away the pain.

The steady bleep of the monitors woke Stiles. There was a warm weight against his shoulder, hips, and knees. A quiet murmur warmed his ear and neck. Even with weak human senses, a deep breath told him it was pack, slightly smelly pack. Okay, scratch that, reeking pack.

"Who rolled in the carrion? Dude, it's called a shower." his voice was barely a scratchy whisper but it received immediate attention. Luckily there was no nurse in the room because every pair of eyes locked on him was wolfed out, blazing reds, blues, and ambers. "So? Flea baths for all?"

Isaac and Erica tripped over each other in their rush to get the doctor. Derek pushed his nose deeply into the crook of his neck while Scott stood grinning like the village idiot. Only Jackson remained still, pressed tightly to his hips.

"Three days." Derek's voice caressed Stiles' ear. "You haven't woken in three days. I thought I had lost you." Strong fingers tugged his brown hair as Derek leaned closer to him.

"I'm not your keys, alpha. You can't lose me so easily."

"But you're mine and human and easily broken. We will be talking about this more later."

Scott was bouncing at the foot of the bed, idiot grin firmly in place. "He hasn't left your side. None of us have. We thought you were never gonna wake up. Everyone has come to visit. Lydia, Allison, Danny, even Chris Argent. I thought Derek was going to kill him where he stood when he walked in the door but they just glared at each other across the bed."

"Is this what I sound like? Remind me to apologize to every person I have ever met." Stiles smiled weakly at Scott. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get into so much trouble and make you worry." Derek growled softly in his ear, kissing the tip gently.

Scott grabbed Stiles' foot and squeezed. "Just glad you're still with us. The thought of not having you around, "Scott broke off, looking a little embarrassed. Baring souls to your best friend was not very manly. "It was bad. Not having you around would be really bad."

Stiles smiled, even though it hurt his busted lip. "Not being around for you guys would be bad for me too, Scott."

"I'm gonna get my mom." With a final shake of Stiles' foot Scott bounded out the door, leaving Stiles alone with the last two wolves.

A very quiet Jackson, who had not lifted his head since Stiles first spoke, still pressed to his hip like second skin, and Derek who clutched his hand like it was his only life line. Stiles let his fingers ruffle the tips of Jackson's short hair. It felt velvety soft without the jock's usual amount of gel and product.

"I heard what you said. We all heard what you said."

"Sorry, Jacks, but my brain was a little rattled with all the punching and beating. What did I say?"

"That I'm family. You think I'm family."

Stiles blinked at the top of Jackson's blond head. "You're pack. We are all pack. That makes us all family and family is everything." Derek's breath hitched at his ear and the alphas fingers tightened around their clasp fingers.

Jackson pulled his head from Stiles' side, eyes filled with real emotion instead of his usual arrogance and smug superiority. "I think you are the only one that knows that. We need you to remind us of that. To teach us to be a true pack."

Stiles shook his head, letting his eyes close as the exhaustion from his three minutes awake sucked him back into the cool darkness. "I'm not going anywhere Jacks." He fell asleep know that he was among pack, his family, his world.


	15. Magic Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes a mistake with his magic. This was the one shot that turned into Two out of Three is Bad. If you like this, go check out my other story.

Magic sucks! Yeah, I know I'm all into it and Deacon warned me to always keep my focus, that my will, thoughts and intent were what was important when casting but seriously, has the man even met me? I can't focus to save my life. Okay, maybe to save my life but teaching me, Stiles the ADD king to become a wielder of magic was not one of his better ideas.

I'm telling you now, this was not my fault. Yes, I was trying to make my own spell but there were hunters after my pack, it's not like I was going to just sit by and let them kill my friends. So there I was in the middle of the forest with who knows what creepy hunters lurking about when this freaking huge owl just swoops out of nowhere.

I was not proud of my scream. Yes, I sat there berating myself. "Stiles you're such a girl. What a girly scream." Damn, it's a figure of speech not a spell. Like I said, magic sucks.

At first I didn't even notice the change. The spell released and I felt a little disoriented but that is normal. I just thought I had messed up the perimeter spell but when I got back to my jeep; well let's just say the girly scream that erupted from me was a true representation of my current state.

Have I mentioned that magic sucks?

Okay, I make a cute girl. My hair was no longer a buzz cut but more of a cute pixie cut that brought out my eyes, making them look huge. And damn, I have great eyelashes; they are long and dark, framing my eyes perfectly. My lips are a little thin but some lipstick should...shit, shit, shit! What the hell am I thinking! I'm a freaking girl.

I couldn't even stop the tears that turned into racking sobs. I will never make fun of girls crying again because I couldn't stop myself. I just sat in my jeep and cried and cried. Which really sucks because my face turns all blotchy and my eyes are red and puffy and there is no way I would want Derek to see me like this.

Crap! Derek! What the hell am I going to tell Derek? Or my dad? Or Scott? It was stressful enough coming out but an instant sex change, that will give my dad a heart attack for sure.

Running away is not a solution but it sure helps give you time to figure out what to do. I ignored the three phone calls and multiple texts from Derek and the pack as I drove to the far side of town. Hopefully out of werewolf sensing range while I figure out what I'm going to do about me.

I left a frantic message on Deacon's phone and texted my dad telling him not to worry, that I was fine. I'm not fine. I'm freaked, panicked, scared, and how the hell do I have tears left? It's not colds and sniffles that keep Kleenex in business; it's the freaking Mississippi of tears that pour out of girls. I wish I had a box or three right now.

My phone buzzed again. Another text from Derek. **What happened? Where are you?**

**I'm fine. Don't worry.**

**Tell me where you are NOW.**

I can read between the lines. There's a 'or I'll rip your throat out with my teeth' in that last text. Which just made me start crying again.

Between the tears and the panic, I never even saw him coming. My door flew open and hunter thug was dragging me out and across the parking lot.

"It's that boy's jeep. The one that runs with the pack."

Really, how shitty is my luck. I'm hiding from my pack so they don't find out I turned myself into a girl in the exact place that the rogue hunters were hiding from the pack. Yeah, my life sucks eggs.

"Where's the boy that drives this jeep?" Burly, hairy dude loomed over me, his breath creating a noxious cloud around my face. I couldn't decide if breathing through my mouth was any better than my nose, I swear I could taste what he had for dinner.

I may be a spaz half the time but I can think on my feet. "You mean Stiles? He told me to drop off his jeep here. He said he would meet me." Okay, not the best excuse but I just needed to stall them until I figured out what to do.

Brut twisted my arm; bring me closer to his sneering face. "Don't lie to me girly. Tell me where he is or I will hurt you."

"Girly? Who talks that way? You watch too many poorly written TV shows."

My head snapped back and forth with the strength of his shake. I'd be feeling that tomorrow, if I lived that long. "Tell me where to boy is."

"Last I saw _the boy_ he was in the woods" Hey, it's the truth. Snarling under his breath, the hunter dragged me toward a rundown building, tossing me into what looked like a broom closet and locked the door. Crap crap crap. My day was not getting any better.

No matter how much I pounded and screamed, no one let me out, no one spoke to me, I was beginning to think they bastards had left me to rot when I heard the commotion.

Deep voices shouted warnings and then the building was filled with the sounds of gun fire and howls. I swear the very walls shook as what were probably bodies hit the walls.

"Stiles!" My first thought was 'Derek is here to save me!' followed closely be 'Oh Shit! Derek is here to save me.' How was I going to face him, like this, with boobs? What if he didn't like me anymore? What if he liked me better? Tucking my head to my knees I curled into the darkness, not answering my alphas calls.

Not like I could hide. Wolf senses and all that. The door screamed as it was torn off its hinges and thrown across the room. Derek stood in the doorway, the light creating a halo around him. Give him a sword and white steed and he could come from the pages of a sappy romance.

"It's me. I swear it's me, I'm Stiles. I just don't look like me. I mean I look like me but not like the real me, maybe the sister me if I had a sister but I don't and oh God! Don't look at me." Yep, coherent and succinct.

Derek leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he took in my scent. Not his best look but, hey, it's Derek, he makes everything look hot. "Stiles? What they hell did you do to yourself?"

"What makes you _immediately_ think it's my fault? And how did you find me?"

Derek pulled me into the light, turning me this way and that as he looked me over, shock and amazement flickering across his face. "I dragged Danny out of bed and had him GPS your ass. And if this is not your fault, then who do I need to kill?"

"No one, it's maybe my fault. I was trying a spell and lost my focus."

Derek's answering growl told me exactly how much trouble I was in after we figured out how to get me out of the situation I had caused. Derek was the one who could focus, laser beam tight, one problem at a time.

"Why did you run? Why didn't you come straight to me?"

And cue the water works, again. How do girls manage it? It was like a hormone free for all inside my body, a constant roller coaster of highs and lows or in my case right now, lows and really lows.

"I didn't want you to see me. What if I can't change back? You won't want me anymore. Or maybe you would like me more. I just wanted to fix this somehow before you saw me."

Derek pulled me into a tight embrace, my new body creating an interesting height difference. My head no longer tucked against his shoulder, it was now pressed against his muscular chest. Not necessarily a bad thing.

"Stiles don't be an idiot. I love you. The packaging doesn't matter."

"I'm going to give my Dad a heart attack. How do I explain this?" I motioned to my body, now shorter, curvier, and so NOT male. "What am I going to do?"

Derek let out one of his patented 'dealing with Stiles' sighs. "Let's find Deacon. Let's see if we can fix this before worrying about 'what ifs'"

Damn wolf, how could he be all logical and reasonable at a time like this?

By sunrise we had located Deacon. By 'we', I mean the whole freaking pack, all of which practically rolled on the ground with laughter. No amount of warning growls from Derek could stop them.

Deacon hid his grin well behind a very serious lecture about my needing to focus and control my thoughts during casting. Yeah, cause I haven't already learned THAT lesson.

Turns out the solution was simple. I just needed to sleep on it. No, really, I just needed to sleep. My body would return to its natural state. Sleep apparently is the body's reset button.

"You are not sleeping in here!"

"Stiles, it's my bed. We always sleep together in MY bed."

"You are not sleeping with me when I am like this. Now get out."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Don't you think you're being a little unreasonable?"

Even as a guy, I still would have thrown the shoe at that point. Stupid wolf. As if I was going to let him sleep with some random girl even if I was that girl because I'm not a girl and he is so not sleeping with one. And that didn't even make sense to me.

The next morning I woke up checking for my important parts as soon as my brain revved up. Thank God! They were all there! Bounding out of bed and down the stairs, I flung myself into my alphas arms, my head fitting perfectly against his shoulder where it belonged. "It worked! I'm back!"

Derek's arms tightened around me holding me close. He pressed a light kiss below my chin. "You and I are going to have a long talk about this after breakfast."

Shit, magic sucks.


	16. He's Going to Kill Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is up a creek. His paddle is no where to be seen.

"Oh god oh god oh god." Stiles couldn't get his voice to make any other sounds but that simple plea to the almighty because he was so very, very dead. He's dad would find his body in little tiny Stiles pieces all over the town and would need super glue to put him back together. He'd be the five thousand piece puzzle of dead people and knowing his luck the morgue attendant would find that he was missing some of his more important pieces.

He could run away, far away, maybe to Brazil or some mountain in Tibet and change his name. But he could never leave his dad. Maybe he could convince his dad to take a vacation, they hadn't had one since mom's death, surely dad had at least a year's worth of vacation days. That might almost be enough time for this mess to blow over. Two years would be better.

Scott pulled up next to him in his mother's old beat up car and whistled. "You are so dead."

"I know. Want to run away with me? We could move to the south and join an Indian tribe. You could be known as "Rolls in Carrion and I could be "Talks with Big Mouth."

"He'll just hunt you down. Running will just make it worse."

"You are a horrible best friend. It's like you are leading me to my own funeral. Don't you even care?"

"I care. But there is no way I am going to be anywhere near you when THIS comes out. I love ya Stiles but," Scott smiles his face practically breaking in half with the size of his grin, "this is all on you. Sorry."

Pulling out he left Stiles sitting next to the damning evidence and his looming death sentence.

Wild Thing started to play on his phone. Staring at it with growing despair Stiles contemplated his options one last time. Run and never stop or face the consequences of his actions.

"Hi, Alpha."

He could hear the startled intake on the other end. "Stiles? Are you in trouble? Are you hurt?"

"What? No, I'm fine."

"You never call me Alpha. Are you sure you are okay?"

"I'm fine Derek, why did you call?"

"I can't find my keys. I thought I left them on the counter last night. I was about to run some errands."

Stiles dropped his head and tucked his knees in closer. Derek hadn't noticed it yet. His life was ticking down to its last moments.

"Why did your heart rate just jump?" A long pause followed that statement and then a deadly quiet question, "Stiles, where is my car?"

"Oh god oh god oh god" Rocking back against the dented black side Stiles hung up the phone without answering and awaited his death.

The executioner arrived surprisingly quickly in the passenger seat of Jackson's car. Both wolves circles the wounded car as if it was a downed deer ready to be devoured. Stiles, tucked against the back tire, couldn't even look up. He was so very dead.

Black work boots stopped in front of him and dark jeans appeared in his line of vision as Derek kneeled beside him. Warm hands ran over Stiles' head and body, taking careful note of the large bruise on his cheek and the sore ribs where the seat belt had caught him.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." He expected yelling, growling, shoving; what he got was pulled into a warm embrace, head gently cradled by a warm hand as his face was tucked against Derek's chest.

"You took my keys? You took my car? Without my permission?" There was no anger, just softly spoken questions.

"I was just getting some breakfast. I wanted to surprise you after your run. I never saw the dog and I swerved and then the air bags were going off and I am so sorry"

Derek sighed and tightened his hug. "The important thing is that you are alive and mostly unhurt." He stood and pulled Stiles up beside him.

"You're not mad?"

"Oh, I'm furious. Once those bruises go down and I make sure your ribs are okay, I plan on taking all this" Derek gestured to his crashed Camero, "out of your hide. You will help pay for the damage and you will make this up to me."

Stiles couldn't help the sniffles that started. "How?"

Derek kissed his forehead, careful not to brush the spreading bruise. "I'm thinking blow jobs. Lots of blow jobs."

Stiles laughed until his ribs were pounding. "I can do that."


	17. Stiles' Notebook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this.

Derek sat with his back stiff against the throne as his crimson eyes roamed the crowd before him. The hall was silent as every wolf bowed down, exposing their necks to his rule. Alpha of all. His eyes traveled over the supplicants to where his newest possession lay. Its broken form, curled at his feet had once been his greatest enemy. Now it was just his toy.

Brown hair caked with blood and dirt, eyes closed in exhaustion and defeat, his prisoner kneeled, bound by silver chains that held his hands behind his back with an extra chain connecting the cuffs to the silver collar around his neck, pulling with just enough to force his arms up or his head back. Neither was a position of comfort.

"Jackson," his voice rumbled out to the farthest reaches of the room causing the weaker wolves to lower themselves further in submission. "Report."

A blond rose to one knee, head still lowered. "The humans have been defeated my lord. Their forces are either captured or been driven out. The survivors of the Fourth are in the stocks awaiting your judgment." Jackson's eyes briefly fell on the man chained at his lord's feet. A brief pang of pity crossed his features before he bowed his head again and lowered himself to both knees.

The human at his feet had been the leader of the last battalion to oppose him. Their battles had been thunderous but now he ruled all. With a single clawed nail, he lifted the defeated commander's chin and looked into his eyes. His growl rumbled, filling the room. "Leave," he commanded. Each wolf scurried to obey their alpha's order.

"So, Lord Stiles, we finally have the chance to meet, face to face." Derek helped him to his feet and eased him toward a window at the far end of the hall. Below was the remains of Stiles' army, the pitiful few that survived. "Your men are defeated, your people at my mercy." His hand ran up Stiles' back and he turned him so they stood face to face. Leaning the human against the wall, Derek slid his knee between Stiles' legs. Lips brushing against his prisoner's neck he whispered, "The amount of mercy I have will depend on you. Do you want me to be merciful?'

"Stiles," Derek growled, closing the notebook. "What the hell is this?"

"Uh, I'm writing a story."

"And I have you chained? On your knees?"

Stiles smiled as he straddled Derek's hips. "You like me on my knees."

Derek kissed him. "So I'm the bad guy?"

"Nope, it's just the set up. There's not really a plot. It's just an excuse to write a sex scene."

"Oh! Planning on finishing it?"

"I think I need a muse."

"That I can do."


	18. Pity Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, party of one.

A sliver of a moon smiled down at Stiles as he rested against his favorite drinking rock. The Jack sloshed happily back and forth as he waved to the cheerful moon. Taking another swig, the lack of sudden burn down his throat a tell tale sign that he had maybe had a bit too much. Fuck it, it's my party and I can drown in JD if I want too.

It was a perfect night. The skies were clear, stars twinkling in the night sky weather a perfect temperature, just cool enough for a light jacket, the breeze a sensual caress against his exposed skin. Too bad it was a party for one.

"Stiles? What the hell are you doing?" Spinning the tipsy teen looked for the source of the deep voice only to find himself toppling over onto his side. Face to toe with a pair of black boots, Stiles pushed himself up onto his elbows to glance upward at the grumpy alpha.

"Derek! I'm having a party. Wanna join?" He shook the Jack temptingly in the alpha's direction before pulling himself back into a sitting position.

"If you die on my property your father, the sheriff, will shoot me." Scowling, which Stiles believed was his natural facial expression, Derek dropped to the ground next to the teen.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure to leave a note clearing you of all suspicions should I decide to succumb to alcohol poisoning on your property. I wouldn't want to put you out with all the body removal though so I'll try to hold my sudden demise until I'm off your land."

"You're an idiot." Derek reached out and took the bottle, taking a deep swallow before placing it alongside his thigh away from Stiles' reach.

"Pfft. I'm not. I'm brilliant. My brain cells are so powered up that they could support small third world countries on my daydreams along. You should be in awe of my mental non idiot-ness."

Ignoring Stiles rant, Derek asked, "Shouldn't you be out with Scott and your friends tonight?"

"Scott's finally back with Allison. He's currently worshipping at her dainty feet and rolling over so she can scratch his little puppy tummy. Crap that sounded bitter. I don't mean to be an ass. I know he loves her and I'm happy for him..."

"But it's your birthday and your best friend should be spending it with you."

Stiles swiveled his head to look at the alpha, the motion unbalancing him and he slid down Derek's side until he was half in his lap. Looking up into the green eyes his smile wide and joyful. "You remembered my birthday? Is it an alpha thing, like you know everyone's birthday? When's Isaac's? We should throw him a nice party."

"I'm their alpha not their mom, Stiles. I don't know their birthdays."

"So how come you know mine." Rolling over in Derek's lap, Stiles reached clumsily for the bottle resting just out of his grasp. His fingers just brushed the side before Derek pulled it further away. "Hey, gimmee."

"Don't you think you've had enough? How are you planning on getting home tonight?" Derek shifted uncomfortable under the squirming teen keeping the bottle away from his out stretched hands.

"Not going home. Dad had to work late and he'd be all sad if he knew I spent my big B-day by myself. I'm having a slumber party! Just me and JD." With a drunken snort, a goofy grin, and a hand to the upper part of Derek's thigh, Stiles pushed himself upright.

Weaving slightly he focused on the older man. "So how come you know my birthday?"

Suddenly the sky fascinated Derek and he tilted his head upward, staring at the stars. Stiles leaned against him, tilting his own head backwards to see what had caught his alpha's attention. "That's Orion. You can see his belt and the four stars around it are his arms and legs. You can even make out his sword belt down the side."

"You're eighteen." Derek closed his eyes and stiffened slightly as Stiles leaned further into his warmth.

"Hey, you remembered my birthday." Looping an arm around Derek's neck he pressed his face into the curve of his neck. "Thanks"

"I think you have had enough. Come on, I'm taking you home." Keeping hold of the arm still resting over his shoulder, Derek stood, bringing Stiles to his feet at the same time.

"Don't want to go home. The night's young and my party was just starting to pick up." Taking most of the drunk teen's weight, Derek half carried him to his car helping him into the passenger seat and buckling him in.

"I love your car. It's so sexy. All dark, broody and mysterious just like it's owner." Running his hand across the dark leather Stiles sent another loopy smile Derek's way. The alpha stilled momentarily before entering the car and starting the motor. "Derek, please don't take me back home. I don't want Dad to know I was alone tonight. He'll feel all guilty and I don't want that."

"Fine, you can stay with me. Pack meetings tomorrow anyway. I'll take you back to get your jeep afterwards." Turning toward the teen, Derek saw that his explanation was unneeded, Stiles was fast asleep against the window.

Oh shit, did I fall asleep in my dirty sock hamper?

That was the only rational explanation for why his mouth would taste like four day old, worn and stinky socks. Cracking open one gunk crusted eye, Stiles surveyed his surroundings.

It was a bedroom.

Good to know.

Pulling the covers back over his head he slipped back into an uneasy slumber.

The next time he woke up it was to someone rubbing his back gently and calling his name. His dad woke him by yelling up the stairs or banging on the door, Scott woke him by going air born six inches from his bed and crash landing on top of him. Only his mother had ever rubbed his back, slow soothing circles as he drifted back to wakefulness.

Blinking he looked over his shoulder at his alpha, black jacket and monotone colors fully in place, petting him. "Where am I?"

"My place. You didn't want to go home so I brought you back with me." Derek handed over a glass of water and a couple of pills. "I think you might need this. Try to drink all the water, you need to get rehydrated. It helps with the hang over."

"What do werewolves know about hang overs? Don't you just wolfie heal? Can you even get drunk?" Stiles swallowed the pills and all the water before leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes, red after images flashing hypnotically behind his lids to the beat of his heart.

"We can get drunk; it just takes a little more than an average human to get us there. It's never a good idea though. You don't want an out of control wolf running around." Derek ran his thumb up Stiles' forehead, starting at the bridge of his nose and ending at his hairline. It was relaxing and Stiles felt himself leaning into each stroke.

"I guess I should get up." Aside from the words Stiles made no attempt to leave the warmth of the bed or the comfort of Derek's touch.

"No hurry. Pack meeting doesn't start for another three hours. I need to stop by the store to get some more food for the teenage eating machines. I'll wake you when I get back."

Nesting deeper into the covers Stiles let out an affirmative hum and fell back asleep.

The third time Stiles woke up it was to the urging of his bladder. Fumbling to escape the sheets he hurried to the master bathroom.

Oh boy! This is Derek's room. The sudden realization stopped him in his tracks, his shocked expression and open mouth reflected back at him from the bathroom mirror. I've been sleeping in Derek's bed, the man who has become the star of all my fantasies, whose looks set fire to my very loins.

_Crap, I sound like a bad romance novel._

"I stopped by your house and brought you back some clean clothes. Take a shower and come on down the pack will be here soon." Thank God Derek was calling out from the bedroom and couldn't see Stiles practically jump out of his skin, hands fluttering in a truly unmanly fashion at the sound of his voice.

"Stiles? Are you okay? Your heart rate just jumped."

"Just a mild heart attack. I'll be fine." Werewolves can hear heartbeats but apparently not sarcasm. Derek flew through the door and grabbed Stiles by the shoulders, giving him a once over with a critical, worried eye.

"Hey, worry-wolf, just a figure of speech. You startled me. I'm fine." With a growl and a gentle shake Derek released Stiles and left as quickly as he came. It seemed that there was the faintest blush on his cheeks but Stiles chalked that up to blurry, hang over eyes.

Stiles wisely kept the shower on the cold side since sleeping in Derek's bed and then being grabbed by him was setting of fireworks down below. He needed to make it through the pack meeting without anything popping up. With that last thought he turned the hot water completely off and stood under the ice flow for as long as he could stand it.

He could hear the voices of the pack as they started to arrive. Hurrying with the last of his dressing, grateful of the new toothbrush he found on top of his clothes, Stiles trotted down the stairs to find Isaac and Boyd already on the couch.

Smiling broadly Stiles plopped himself between them. "Hey, guys. How ya been?

"Stiles, why do you smell like a liquor store?" Isaac wrinkled his nose and leaned slightly away. Boyd leaned closer and sniffed delicately at his neck.

"I took a shower. How can you possibly smell that?" Embarrassed by the sniffing Stiles tried to extract himself from the couch but his pack mates kept him pinned.

"Where were you last night? Did you go to a party? You know, drinking that much alcohol isn't safe. How'd you get home?" It was strange watching Boyd go all mother hen. Usually it was Stiles who cared for the pack, checked out their injuries and problems. It was disconcerting to be on the other side of the scrutiny.

"It was just a small party. Nothing big. Derek gave me a ride back here so there's no reason to worry." Stiles was the master of the non-truth, a skill he greatly prized since he started hanging with a pack of breathing lie detectors.

Stiles was saved from further conversation by the grand entrance of Lydia and Jackson. If by grand you mean bickering and by entrance you mean slamming of the door hard enough the very frame shook. It was a perfect diversion.

"Stiles, why do you reek of alcohol? If there was a party, I would have known about it." _Okay, so much for the diversion._ Now he had four pair a wolf eyes and senses trained on him. _Well, crap!_

"Like I was telling Boyd, it was just a small party. No big deal." Lydia, human though she was, could pick up on the unspoken lie better than the betas in the room.

"Cut the crap Stiles. Why were you drinking?"

"Drinking? Was there a party last night?" The last of the pack arrived. Scott held the door open for Allison, smiling as she walked by, and then sat down next to Stiles pulling his girlfriend into his lap as he dropped a quick kiss on her neck.

Using his best imitation wolf growl, Stiles snarled "For the last time it was a very small, very private party. So not a big deal. Can we just drop it?"

"Turning eighteen is a pretty big deal," Derek called from the kitchen. Stiles dropped his head into his hands, wishing the couch would spring to life and eat him to save him from the embarrassment of having the pack find out about his pity party in the woods. Hey, it's Beacon Hills, home of werewolves and ex-lizards; a man eating couch wasn't that much of a stretch.

"Oh Stiles, I'm sorry, dude. I completely forgot." Peering between his fingers Stiles came face to face with Scott's pitiful puppy dog eyes. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was your first date since the breakup. I knew it was important to you." Stiles bumped shoulders with his friend. "Hey, you can make it up to me when I turn twenty one."

"I just wish we had known." Isaac draped an arm around his shoulder. "We would have thrown you a party."

"We are." Derek walked out carrying a huge cake, candles blazing merrily, which Stiles knew was freaking Derek out. "Happy birthday. Blow the damn things out, NOW!" Alpha voice is a funny thing. Having all the betas jump up and blowing at the same time was like being in the middle of a mini tornado. Thank goodness they held off on the spit.

Three slices of chocolate cake later Stiles was riding his sugar high like a cowboy on a widow maker bronco. "Someone just sit on him." Jackson's voice took on a slightly whiny note as Stiles made his fifth circuit around the room.

"Blame Derek. He's the one who let him have the second and third slice." Scott snickered. Derek responded with a flash of crimson eyes then yanked Stiles off his feet as he passed within reach. He wrapped his arms around him and tucked the teen's head under his chin.

The impromptu party wound down and the wolves cleaned up and headed their separate way. "Stiles, need a ride with Allison and I?"

Derek still had Stiles partially pinned to the couch but the hyper teen had hit his sugar coma stage and was no longer wiggling all over the place. "I've got him. I'll take him to his jeep later and make sure he gets home in one piece."

Scott smiled and waved goodbye, slipping his hand into Allison's as they headed for his mom's beat up car.

"Best pity party ever." Stiles mumbled from Derek's chest.

"It wasn't a pity party, Stiles. They all felt bad that they didn't know or, in idiot Scott's case, remember that it was your birthday."

"You're right. Best guilt trip party ever." Derek sighed into the teen's hair enjoying the way the short strands tickled his nose. "I'm glad you remembered. It means a lot to me. Thank you." Derek tightened his arms briefly around Stiles' waist. "You can let me go. I've come down off my sugar high. I am no longer a menace to small knickknacks and other breakable items."

"I'm not holding you to protect the breakables. This is a werewolf pack house. We don't have any breakables."

"Well, everyone has left. I can't really drive them nuts."

"Not holding you because you were driving them nuts. Watching Jackson as you painted on an icing tattoo on his arm was priceless."

"So you're holding me because...?"

"You're eighteen."

Tucked against Derek's chest, Stiles could hear the bearing of the wolf's heart. How with each question the tempo increased, the pounding became heavier. It was an intimate connection, an insight into the true emotions of the brooding man he had become to think of as more than just his friend.

Sliding his hand up the ridges of his abs and across Derek's chest, Stiles listened as his heart beat fluttered and skipped. "Oh." Stiles had never thought of himself as being dense until now.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Stiles straddled the startled alpha. "So are you going to give me a present? Maybe something I've been wanting for a couple of years now."

Green eyes widened in shock briefly before Derek kissed Stiles into oblivion. His next coherent thought was "how did they end up on the floor", followed closely by "why isn't Derek taking off his shirt yet?"

"Shirt, shirt, shirt!" Derek was fluent in horny teen and immediately lifted up and let Stiles help him pull his shirt off revealing an expanse of chest and abs that left Stiles speechless. Fingers tracing random patterns across the Alpha's skin, Stiles gave himself permission to just sit in awe for a second.

Derek leaned in, lips nibbling along Stiles' neck and chin. "Maybe we could take this upstairs. It's more comfortable than the living room floor." Scrambling off the floor Stiles grabbed Derek by his hand and dragged the chuckling wolf up the stairs.

The sheets were still messy and rumpled from his drunken night which suited Stiles just fine. Giving Derek's had a final pull; he pushed him toward the bed until his knees backed up against the mattress. Lips pressed against Derek's he rode he older man down.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where his two remaining rational brain cells were huddled among a sea of hormones, he knew he was acting desperate, needy, and wonton. He just didn't care. God, it was Derek he was kissing.

Derek slowly eased his way up the bed Stiles stalking his every move. When strong fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, Stiles quickly removed it, relishing the feel of flesh to flesh. Biting and kissing his way down Stiles stilled abruptly at the waistband of the dark jeans, eyes glancing uncertainly up into amused and lust filled green ones.

"Don't stop now, birthday boy. You wanted a present, you get to unwrap it."

Stiles turned an amazingly endearing shade of red from the tips of his ears and down his neck. "Uh, I guess porn can only take you so far. I don't want to screw this up. I mean, yeah to screwing but I don't want to do it wrong cause I'd really like to do this again, maybe daily, hell how about hourly." Derek stopped Stiles' ramble the best way possible, by giving his mouth something else to focus on, namely the taste of his tongue.

Rolling Stiles gently onto his back Derek worked his way down his chest enjoying the lean muscles and toned body that Stiles tended to hide under his baggy shirts and multiple layers. He opened the button of the teen's jeans and slid the pants down his body as Stiles lifted his hips to help.

Trying to hurry the jean removal along Stiles only managed to tangle his shoes up in his pants legs and ended up squirming around the bed in utter mortification. Grabbing the one pants leg he managed to get off, he tugged with all his might getting smacked in the head by his own tennis shoe as it finally popped loose.

"Oh God, I should have just let the couch eat me." Stiles lay on his back, eyes tucked into the inside of his elbow as he listened to Derek chuckle at the foot of the bed. "I suck at this. I'm the worst boyfriend ever." As soon as the words left his mouth he felt Derek still. A quick mental rewind had him deciding that while embarrassment might not kill him it made him feel pretty suicidal.

Warm hands wrapped themselves around his knees and a moist breath ghosted up his inner thigh to nuzzle against the curly hairs. "Boyfriend? I thought I would have to do a little more convincing before you agreed. And you don't suck at this. You're perfect."

The oxygen in the room seemed to take on color and light as Derek took Stiles into his mouth, practically swallowing him whole. His skin sizzled, nerves firing 'holy shit' signals up and down his spine causing toes to curl, fingers to clinch the sheets, and his vocal processing to short circuit to a mere "duh agh."

The tension built, arching his back as it wound him tighter until he was spilling over the edge of ecstasy, his body quaking with the aftershocks of his release. The real world slowly came back into focus with Derek's smile the first vision to register in his sex soaked mind.

"See? Perfect." Derek tucked his passion ravaged boyfriend under his chin and closed his eyes.

"So we can do this again?"

"Um hum," Derek mumbled in reply.

"Daily?"

"Works for me."

"Hourly?"

"Hummm. Don't you have school?"

"How about now?"

With a smile that was becoming commonplace on his face, Derek rolled over, kissing his boyfriend into silence and making sure his birthday was a memorable one.


	19. Stiles' Notebook:  Pizza Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles delivers.

I grabbed the large sausage pizza from the warming rack and placed it in the red pizza bag before making a final check of the location on the wall map.  It was a busy night and if my tips kept coming I would be able to make rent on time for once and maybe have enough to pay my cell bill before they shut it off again.  

Between my student loans, working thirty plus hours delivering pizza, and living in a shoebox that masqueraded as an apartment I was barely able to afford college.  It helped that my manager made sure we had all the pizza we could eat while working and didn't mind me taking a box home with me at night. 

Who would have ever thought I would get tired of pizza but after living on it almost entirely for breakfast and dinner for the last six months I was starting to dream of vegetables.  I think that is a sign of the upcoming apocalypse. Dogs and cats living together and Stiles craving asparagus.  Go figure.

The delivery address was off the main street but not a building I had ever delivered to before.  Watching addresses as I drove I was shocked to find myself in front of a popular night club.  A dance club. With male dancers.  Dear lord, I was delivering a pizza with extra sausage to a male strip club.  It was a fantasy I never realized I had come true.

Swallowing a chuckle and a bit of drool I made my way to the back entry where it announced "Deliveries Only".  I filled my thought with images of old grandmas with yellow teeth and random facts from my evil statistics class before knocking on the door.  They wanted extra sausage on their pizza not their pizza boy.  Too bad.

 All thoughts of remaining unaffected by my customers left my brain in a rush as my blood migrated south when Adonis in a Speedo opened the door to let me inside.  He was my height and I could have looked him straight in the eye.  My eyes didn’t make it anywhere near that high up, focused primarily on his sculpted chest and razor defined abs.  

“Hey, great.  You’re here.  Look there’s an extra $50 for your tip if you take it up on stage.  We’re getting the new guy.  Think you can handle that?”

There were many things lounging around the small backstage room that I would love to “handle” but for a tip that large I would carry the pizza up on stage and hand feed it to a hairy footed hobbit.  Though I doubt that is what I will find on stage.

Following the dancers directions I walked up a short flight of stairs and into a curtained alcove.  The music pounded a steady rhythm and I could hear the audience showing their appreciation of the dancer that was just beyond the red fabric. 

Swallowing both my growing nervousness and another mouthful of drool (can you blame me?) I strolled onto the stage announcing in my loudest voice, “Did someone order a large, extra sausage?” I couldn’t see the audience because of the blinding lights but their roar of laughter washed over me.

The dancer paused briefly, his green eyes and expressive brows showing his displeasure with the interruption with a downward slant but the rest of his face remained unchanged by my arrival on his stage.  With the slightest upturn of his lip he swaggered my direction, hips and body swaying to the beat.  A quick double step had him sliding his way across the floor to my feet, rising upward in a graceful arch at the last second, bringing his body almost flush with my own. 

Snatching the hat from my head and tossing it across the stage, he swirled around me, fingers skimming across my stomach and around to my back.  Reaching around me he took the pizza box from my hands has he gyrated, hips thrusting against me in time to the beat.  He stepped away from me and slid across the floor on his knees, spinning at the last second and arching back up only to dance his way back to me, pizza box thrusting in counterpoint to hips and chest.  

God, I will never look at pizza the same again.

With one last spin around me he popped open the top of the pizza box, grabbed a slice and slowly ate it as he sauntered off the stage.  I was pulled off in the other direction by the hooting dancers who slapped my back and stuffed a fifty down the front of my pants.

“Did you enjoy that, Pizza Boy?”

I couldn’t seem to form words, my brain was left with just a buzzy feeling as the dark haired dancer, still eating a slice of sausage pizza, walked slowly toward me.  I wanted to say something witty and cool, hell, I would settle for something that could be loosely considered human speech but I ended up muttering and breathy “guhua” as he slipped my hat back on my head.

The drive back to the pizza shop was a blur.  There was a lull in the orders and I was able to dodge back to fish out my tip and hide until things settled down.  By the end of the night every driver knew the story and by the end of the week any sausage pizza became my personal delivery.    Nothing quite like hearing the staff yell “sausage run” as I walked through the door to bring a smile to my face and a blush to my ears, I was embarrassed and proud at the same time.  

A week passed and I found myself amazed at how many large sausage pizzas people ordered around town.  I guess I never paid attention before they became my personal food kink.  

“Sausage run!”  It didn’t matter that I skipped ahead of two other delivery drivers, the joke was just too good for the staff to let go and I wasn’t about to say no to the extra tips.  Loading up the pizza and a two liter of Coke I made my way to an upscale apartment complex at the edge of my delivery route.  The apartment overlooked the pool complete with steaming hot tub and a grotto covered by a small waterfall.  It was all very much out of my league.

Knocking on the door, I envisioned myself living in an apartment like this one, laying by the pool, soaking the day’s stresses away in the hot tub.  My fantasy was interrupted by the opening of the door, revealing my current mental hot spot, my dancer.  Well, the dancer because he SO wasn’t mine.

“Pizza Boy,” he smiled.  I was hoping I would get you.  I managed to give him the pizza and coke in exchange for the cash he handed me without dropping anything or making a complete fool out of myself.  Okay, I most likely sounded like an uneducated buffoon but hopefully not a fool.  Shit, who am I kidding.

Shoving  the cash into my pocket I turned to leave but he caught me by the sleeve and turned me around.  “Hey, Stiles?,” his eyes darted down to check out my name tag and then back up with a curious arch of his brow.  “If I was to order another pizza, say tomorrow night, could I ask for you personally to delivery it?”

“I’ve been getting all the sausage since I delivered one to you.  Oh, God, that is not how it sounded in my head.”  The dancer just smiled, all white teeth and sparkling green eyes.  “Yeah, if you order a sausage I will deliver it to you.”

“Would there be any chance of you staying to eat the pizza with me?”

Holy crap on a crutch!  He’s flirting with me.  Me!  “I’m not really that in to pizza anymore.  After a while, after you start to smell like pepperoni and become the neighborhood’s stray’s best friend, you stop liking it so much.”  Oh, great.  That was smooth.  Turn down a possible date with possibly the hottest man you have ever seen because I am sick of pizza.  I think my IQ must be affected by the pepperoni smells.

“Do you like Mexican?  Chinese? A home cooked meal of meatloaf and green beans?”

“I love green beans.”  Wow, if I stay this suave I am going to die a virgin.

“Really?  I can make some tonight.  Enough for two.”  He looked guiltily down on the pizza box he still held in his hand.  “I never really liked pizza anyway.”

“I get off in an hour.”

The dancer smiled again.  It was breath taking.  “I’ll have dinner ready.”

Walking back to my car I had to pinch myself twice to make sure this wasn’t just the newest fantasy my lust filled brain had cooked up about my dark haired dancer. “Hey,” called a voice behind me.  “I’m Derek.” 

 

Lydia closed to notebook and collapsed into giggles against Jackson’s side.  “Derek as a male dancer?  Has he read this? “

“Stiles is still breathing so he can’t have read it yet.”  Jackson curled his arm around his giggling girlfriend and smirked across at a flushed Stiles who was still trying to get his writing notebook out of Jackson’s grip.

Jackson was saved from the wild and ineffective flailing of Stiles by the return of his alpha.  “Stiles, don’t bother Jackson.”

“He won’t give me my book back.”

Much like a parent of an unruly back of children, Derek let out a long suffering sigh.  “Jackson, give Stiles back his book.”

“Have you read his latest?”

“Oh, GOD!”  Stiles buried his face in his hands.

“Which one?  The story where I am the evil overlord with Stiles chained at my feet or the one where I am the cowboy and he’s the misunderstood cattle rustler?”

“In this one you’re a male dancer.”  The two almost fell off the porch with their laughter.

“What is Stiles?  My manager?  A fan?”

Lydia’s voice was husky with laughter.  “A sausage pizza delivery boy.”

Green eyes met mocha brown.  “So, you deliver now?  Can I place my order.”

Pack meetings included large sausage pizzas for the next few months.  Every time one was delivered Stiles would blush, Lydia would crow with glee, and Jackson would refuse to eat a single piece.  Derek, on the other hand seemed to relish every bite.


	20. Blue Bindweed

Stiles knew better.  A little knowledge and too much imagination was a powerful thing but not worth the life of people he cared about.  Which was how he found himself rolling down a hill desperately trying to pat out the smoldering ruins of his alpha’s cloths. 

Reaching the bottom and ignoring the dizziness that had his stomach churning, Stiles straddled the motionless wolf, ripping off his shirt and running his hands up and down his body checking for injuries.  Derek slowly pulled himself up so that he was leaning back, braced on elbows and watching stiles through lidded eyes.

"God, Derek.  I am so sorry.  Are you hurt?"

Smiling widely, which in itself had Stiles worried; Derek motioned at his naked torso with a flip of his wrists.  "Werewolf, we tend to heal from pesky things like small Stiles made explosions but feel free to keep running your hands over my body and wiggling on top of me.  I like it."

Stiles jerked to a startled halt, frozen in place, hips resting against a very interested werewolf.  As Derek leaned forward, Stiles scrambled backward until he ran the back of his head into a tree.  Visions of stars blinded him for a second giving Derek plenty of time to gather him to his chest and gently check his head.

“There’s no blood." Derek's nose ghosted over the flesh exposed by Stiles' torn t-shirt, followed by his lips and then a hint of his teeth nipping gently.

"Maybe we should go see Dr. D?"  Stiles held himself still as Derek's hands began to roam over his body, down his back, nails scratching pleasingly down his spine, around his waist with fingers dipping just under the band of his pants and then up under his shirt, across his ribs to his chest and back again.

Derek looked Stiles over, his eyes dilated so that they were almost completely black with a ring of molten red.  Stiles swallowed hard.  He repeated his swallow and added a gulp when Derek dropped his head and took in his scent from the hollow of his neck to his navel in one long undulation of his body.

"Your smell is off.  We should get the doctor to look over you to make sure whatever you were playing with didn't do anything to you.  You are acting funny."

Holding in his incredulous, 'I’m acting funny?' Stiles just nodded and let Derek half carry him to the car.  He started to seriously consider that he had been dropped into an alternative universe when Derek pulled off his jacket and draped it around his shoulders before tucking him into the passenger seat of the Camaro.

The ride to the vets was beyond weird.  Derek kept reaching across the seat, touching Stiles’ knee, rubbing his leg, arm and letting his hand rest against the back of his neck, thumb stroking slow lazy circles on his skin, for long periods of time.  Not that Stiles minded, he just knew it wasn't real and when real Derek came back he was most likely going to blame his whole touchy feelie up Stiles on him and then there would be violence and bloodshed. 

_Oh, he was so very dead._

Derek didn't bother knocking when he arrived at the vets; he just barreled in calling for the doctor as he cradled Stiles protectively against his side.  Deaton’s startled expression was hidden quickly behind his usual friendly smile.

"Stiles made something and it exploded.  He hit his head and his smell is off.  I think he's been affected by whatever was in that mixture."  Both Stiles and the doctor watched as Derek continued to stroke and caress Stiles as he spoke, his hands never leaving his body.

"Let's go in the back and let Stiles tell me about what he was experimenting with."  Once in the back Derek lifted Stiles and placed him on the table sliding his hips between his knees and cupping his face with both his hands.  Stiles couldn't help but melt into the kiss, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist and pulling him closer. 

"Ahem."  Interrupted by an amused Deaton, Stiles pulled away and blushed guiltily.  He was going to pay for this when Deaton fixed Derek.  "Tell me what you did."

"It was for Chris Argent.  He keeps saying that he is going to honor the truce but I just don't trust him.  There have been too many instances when we trust and then get shot in the ass with hunter arrows.  I just wanted to be sure.  I didn't expect Derek to pop out of nowhere and scared the holy hell out of me and I sorta dropped it and Derek got caught in the smoke."

Derek growled softly and pressed closer to Stiles letting his nose once again trace the exposed skin at his neck before traveling up his chin to rest against the shell of Stiles' ear, breath sending shivers of need and want down his body. "It's my job as alpha to protect you.  I don't want you getting hurt, Stiles.  I need you safe."

Deaton ignored the alpha plastered against the human and continued to question Stiles.  "What did you use?"

"Bindweed berries, ground ostrich feathers, and basil.  It was to draw the truth out for the protection of the pack.  I don't know why it's making..." Stiles glanced Derek's way and raised his eyebrows.

"Why would a truth spell make you so edgy?  It's like you’re about to panic, I can feel the fear coming off you in waves.  Every time I touch you, you flinch back like you expect me to hurt you." Derek continued to run his hands up and down Stiles’ arms as if to sooth him.

"So bindweed and ostrich feathers for truth but why basil?" Asked Deaton.

"For protection.  I wanted to make sure no one would be harmed by it." 

"Basil can be used for protection but it is more commonly used for love.  I think you created some type of truth of love spell."

"So this is really him just sorta stripped of his usual angst and grumpy alpha-ness.  Somehow I spelled him down to his soft chewy center."

"I would not have put it that way but, basically, yes."

"He is going to kill me.  Then he will have Peter bring me back from the dead so that he can kill me again."

Derek rumbled from pressed against his back, "I won't let anyone hurt you.  I'll rip their throats out."

"With your teeth.  Yes, I am sure you will.  Could you keep your hands above my waist while we're in public?" Derek grumbled, nipping at his neck but complied.  "So now what?"

"Take him home.  When the spell wears off he will go back to normal."

"And hunt me down, kill me slowly, and bury my body where no one will ever find it."

The scream of metal made both humans jump.  Derek's claws left long furrows in the stainless steel table and his eyes blazed.  "No one will lay a hand on you Stiles.  I would die before letting harm come to you."

Stiles let himself enjoy the warmth as Derek pulled him into a tight embrace.  "You need to take me home, okay."  The spell would be wearing off in a few hours and having a few miles between himself and an emotionally re-shelled alpha would be best for his continual survival.

The low rumble that came from Derek had Stiles questioning his decision and his ability to get the alpha to leave once he was at his house.  But as dying went, it was looking like he would go out smiling.

His driveway was empty except for his jeep, his dad working another night shift dealing with the unanswered questions that rose from living in a town burdened with an overabundance of supernatural wildlife.  "You know this spell will wear off soon and you are going to be back to your usual self and take this all out on me.  I know it's my fault but death is a little steep in the payback department."

Derek pushed him toward the door, slipping the keys out of Stiles’ pocket and opening the door.  Stiles found himself pinned against his front door with a werewolf's mouth pressed against his throat.  Lips, not sharp teeth, roamed across his skin and Stiles couldn't help but arch back, chin lifting, to give Derek better access.

 

 

“It’s the spell, Derek.  You know this is just the spell.  You don’t really feel this way about me.”

Derek slid his thigh between Stiles’ knees and lifted him until Stiles was trapped between the door and Derek’s body, his feet unable to even touch the ground.  Giving into the inevitable and, he couldn’t deny it, his deepest desires, Stiles wrapped his legs tightly around the alpha and pulled him in for a kiss.

The kiss was full of teeth and tongue, not at all gentle.  Derek took control immediately, swirling and sucking Stiles’ tongue, tracing the contours of his mouth and imprinting his very essence in Stiles.

“Not just the spell.” Derek’s voice was deeper, harsher than Stiles had ever heard it.  “I’ve wanted this, wanted you for so long.  Wanted to be deep in you, mark you as mine, have you scream my name as you came for me.  The spell didn’t make me feel this way.”

“But its making you act on those feelings, you would never have otherwise.”

“You always talk too damn much.  Let me help you shut up.”  The kiss was deep, heady, enough to completely short circuit any mental processing Stiles had left.  By the time Derek pulled away, his nose tucked between neck and shoulder, Stiles felt boneless and sated. 

_Well almost sated._

Derek rolled his hips creating the perfect friction against Stiles.  Head tilted back, offering his neck to the alphas loving nips and stubble covered nuzzles, Stiles tried to recreate the roll, to press himself tighter against Derek’s body.  

“I have a bed.  I think maybe a bed would be exactly what we need right now.”  Arms and legs twined around Derek, Stiles clung as the wolf carried him up the stairs and deposited him, bouncing onto the bed.  

Derek popped his button and let the tattered remains of his jeans slither to the floor as he toed off his shoes.  Crawling slowly up the bed, he paused at Stiles’ stomach to lick and kiss, fingers dragging along the outside of his hips while his thumbs stroked over the straining bulge in his pants.

Stiles could only nod franticly and lift his hips when Derek glanced upwards.  The cool air was only momentary against his skin before it was covered with Derek’s warmth.  The wolf trailed kisses upward pushing Stiles’ T-shirt up as he went until he slid it completely off and tossed it to the side.

“You’re going to hate me tomorrow.  Derek, think!  I don’t want this to ruin our friendship or whatever you want to call it.  I don’t think I could survive that.”

“I’m not going to hate you.  I have never hated you.  You annoy me, challenge me, amuse me, and make me want to ravish you but hate is an emotion that I have never felt toward you.”  Derek punctuated each statement with a nip to Stiles’ chest, then lower to his stomach.  Pausing over Stiles’ swollen member he looked up at the panting teen. “But you will never mix that spell again.  Never.” 

Stiles arched as if electrocuted, back bowed until he was supported by heels and shoulders alone, fingers fisted in Derek’s hair holding him in place as his body tried to meld itself to Derek.  Pushing Stiles’ hips back down to the bed Derek continued to twirl his tongue up the length and around the tip before swallowing the whole thing again to the sound of Stiles’ moans and pleas.

The only warning given was a frantic, “Derek, Derek, oh GOD!” followed by a shuttering body wide orgasm that Derek held him through.

“Sorry, sorry.” Stiles whispered as another aftershock ran through him.

“Shh.  You were perfect and we have plenty of other times.”  Derek kissed him gently on the forehead and tucked his body closer as he closed his eyes.

One moment Stiles was dozing comfortable against Derek’s chest listening to his heartbeat and the next he was throwing himself between his enraged and armed father and a very naked alpha werewolf.

“Dad, don’t shoot him.”

The sheriff was a mix of confusion, rage, and surprise as he stood before the two watching as his son tried to cover both himself and Derek Hale with the Iron Man cover from his bed. “Since when were you gay, Stiles?”

“Since Derek.” No matter how Stiles twisted the cover, he could not seem to find a way to cover all their bits at the same time.  Derek chuffed and stepped back to pull on his jeans while Stiles rolled the cover around him until he looked like a cocoon.

“Derek Hale made you gay?”

“God Dad, look at him.  He could make a rock gay.  Well, a male rock because a female rock wouldn’t be gay but, shit, you know what I mean.”  From his position between the two men Stiles had the full benefit of watching twin looks of disbelief and annoyed humor pass over their faces.

Holstering his gun, the sheriff gestured for Derek to leave the room.  “You’re lucky I don’t shoot and arrest you.”

“Sheriff, I just want you to know that…”

The Sheriff cut him off with a growl that would do any wolf proud.  “Stiles is only seventeen”

“I’ll be eighteen in two weeks,” Stiles interjected but was ignored by both men.

“I don’t want to see you near my son...” Grabbing the unresisting Derek by the arm, the Sheriff ushered him down the stairs to the front door.  

“Sheriff, I care deeply for you son.  You can’t just…”

“Shut up or I will arrest you now.  As I was saying, I don’t want to see you near my son for another two weeks.  After that time, you may ask him on a date.”  Turning to glare at Stiles he continued. “With a ten o’clock curfew.”

“Ten?”  Stiles stumbled down the stairs after the two of them barely keeping his feet as he tripped on the last step.  “Since when have I had a curfew that early?”

“Since you started dating Derek Hale.”  The Sheriff opened the door and shoved a startled alpha out into the cold night’s air.

“Okay, ten it is.” Derek could hear the smile in Stiles’ voice as the door slammed in his face.

(****************************************************************)

Two weeks and twelve hours later, a very subdued Derek was invited into the living room while Stiles finished the last of the sudden chores his dad had found for him.  

Busting into the room full of nervous energy and a growing sense of panic Stiles found his soon-to-be boyfriend sitting stiffly across from his very tense father.

“God, Dad!  You never clean your guns in the living room.  Stop trying to scare him off.”

“Derek’s not scared off, are you Derek?  We were just discussing your curfew and my expectations on how he will be treating my only son.”

“I’m so glad I’m not a girl.  I would end up dying a virgin if this is how you are with a son.”

“You’re not helping.” Derek sang under his breath as the Sheriff turned, face wiped clean of any emotion, to face his son.

Eyes locked on Stiles, the Sheriff continued to speak to Derek.  “You will have him home by ten, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”  Stiles smothered a chuckle at Derek calling his father sir.

By the time the two of them made it out the door Stiles was a bundle of raw nerves.  “So where are we going?”

“Somewhere to talk.”

Derek stopped to get take out with extra curly fries and a large chocolate shake for Stiles which he didn’t let him eat in the car.  “I’m guessing the spell is completely gone, otherwise you would let me eat a couple of fries.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can wear my jacket if you get cold.”

Derek pulled into a rundown park with battered tables and benches, a grass covered jogging snaking its way through the darkness.  After dividing the food evenly, Derek placed his jacket around Stiles’ shoulders and sat next to him on the creaking bench.

“So are we really going to date?  Don’t get me wrong, I want to date you, well more than just date but I didn’t think you would want too after the spell wore off.”  Stiles spoke around his mouthful of fries as his hands nervously shredded the napkin in front of him.

“If I didn’t have those two weeks to think about it I most likely would have pushed you away, said something hurtful or declared that you were no longer part of the pack.  But the extra time forced me to think about it.  The spell just revealed my true feelings.” 

“Sorry, I never meant for you to get caught in it.”

“It’s okay.  I probably would have never kissed you otherwise.  I’m glad your spell blew up in my face.”

“So we’re dating?”  Stiles smiled, bouncing slightly as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, we’re dating.”

The rest of the evening passed quickly but considering they only had an hour and a half before Stiles’ curfew that wasn’t surprising.  Derek drove up to the front of the house at 9:50 and spent the next ten minutes kissing Stiles hungrily in the front seat.  At ten the porch lights began to flicker which Stiles decided to disregard in favor of exploring his new boyfriend’s tonsils.  It wasn’t until a snarled, “Don’t make me get my gun,” that the two broke off their kiss.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Hell no!  I’ll leave my window open tonight.”


End file.
